


The Spirit of Lawrence High

by violue



Series: The Spirit of Lawrence High Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Bullying, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, Ghosts, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Past Rape/Non-con, casturbation, depressing hospital situations, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 70,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is funny, gorgeous, brave, loyal, and a breath of fresh air in Castiel Shurley's life. Dean Winchester is also a ghost haunting Castiel's school, but nobody's perfect, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before the Lights Go Out

**Author's Note:**

> Where to start with this. Well, first of all, this fic wouldn't exist without [Casfucker](http://casfucker.tumblr.com/). She was my muse, cheerleader, alpha, beta, and she helped me slowly get over my aversion to typing words like "dick" and "cock" in my narrative. 
> 
> Let me tell you a few things I have little to no experience with: Teenage boys, what goes on in a high school, ghosts, hospitals, and pretty much everything in this story. So if at some point you read a scene and think "wow, that author doesn't know what the hell she's talking about!" just chalk it up to creative license and move on. 
> 
>   **Important: All the warnings for the story can be found in the tags, so read through them. There are no warnings before each chapter. If there's something in the tags you don't want to read, be careful before you continue, because there isn't a second warning.**
> 
> Now with an art post! Click [here](http://ashproduct.livejournal.com/3091.html) to show [ashproduct](http://ashproduct.livejournal.com/) some love for her art! I _insist_.

** **

 

**(May 2013)**

"Cheers to putting this bloody burg in the rearview mirror!"

Maybe Dean’s just having post-graduation blues, but Bela Talbot’s voice seems extra annoying tonight. She’s perched on what used to be Dean’s usual table during Chemistry, holding her beer high in the air and soaking in the cheers from the other seniors. Dean scowls slightly before joining in on the chorus of ‘fuck yeah!’ and taking a drink from his beer. Ash brought a lot of Pabst, and it’s sort of terrible.

Having a party on graduation night was Charlie’s idea, but breaking into the school to throw the party in the lab was all Dean. He said it was to leave a mark on the school, but really Dean just wants to leave an impression on his friends. They’re all moving on to bigger and better things. Charlie and Ash are both headed for MIT, Jo is off to Berkeley, Garth is going to Kansas State, Victor is on his way to the University of Nebraska, and Benny is enlisting in the army at the beginning of next month. They all have plans for what to do with their lives, except for Jo who claims she’s sure she’ll settle on a major by the end of her first year, but even she is at least going to college.

Dean, on the other hand, isn’t. He didn’t even apply to any schools. He didn’t fail anything, and he won’t be repeating his senior year like Alastair, but he doesn’t have any higher education in his future. His parents have promised they’re not angry that he isn’t going to college, and Dean is set to work at his father’s store once one of the workers moves out of Lawrence later this summer, but he still feels like he’s letting them down. He feels like he’s letting _himself_ down. His mom has tried to be encouraging, telling him that if he really wants to go to college he can always apply and start a year later, but Dean has always felt like if he doesn’t start college right out of school like the others, it’s probably not going to happen. Sam told Dean that he just thinks he has to go to college because that’s what society tells him is the next step, but Sam is a freshman that fully intends to go to Stanford in a few years, so the statement didn’t have the impact Sam probably intended.

So here Dean is, leaving his mark in the form of a party he’s actively hoping no one outside the attendees finds out about because they could probably get in a lot of trouble. He expected this to be a lot more fun, but his dark mood is ruining it for him. Charlie and Jo both shoot him a few concerned looks before he quietly slinks out of the room. There’s no need to start bumming out his friends too.

He walks slowly down the hall for a couple of minutes before it starts getting too dark to go on. They only switched on the lights for part of the school, and it’s just plain creepy all empty and dark like this. He starts to head in another direction when he hears the sound of voices arguing in the gym, and then a scream. When no one comes running out of the lab, Dean assumes no one else heard the scream and rushes in on his own.

At first he doesn’t see anyone. The gym is one of the rooms with the lights on, but there doesn’t look to be anyone inside. He hears another scream, this time muffled, and looks in the direction of the bleachers. The source of the scream turns out to be Tessa Graves, one of the few ex-girlfriends of Dean’s that’s never thrown a drink in his face. Her eyes are open wide, and the hand covering her mouth belongs to Alastair Moorehouse, Dean’s least favorite person on the fucking planet. Dean’s knuckles are still raw from the last time they were alone in a room together. Dean doesn’t even know why Alastair is at the school. He sure as fuck wasn’t invited because for one, he didn’t graduate, and more importantly, Dean fucking hates him.

"Alastair," Dean growls, "what the fuck do you think you’re doing?"

"Piss off, Winchester," Alastair hisses back, and God, his voice makes Dean want to scrub a layer of skin off his entire body. Dean of course ignores the order, stomping up the ancient battered bleachers to the top and physically pulling Alastair away from Tessa.

"Tessa, are you okay?" Dean asks, glaring at Alastair. Tessa just nods with tearful and angry eyes. "Okay, head back to party, alright? Just go straight there. Alastair and I are going to talk."

While Tessa runs down the bleachers and out of the gym, Dean turns to face Alastair.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing, Alastair?" Dean yells. Instead of answering, Alastair rushes forward, throwing a punch that Dean easily catches. He twists Alastair’s arm behind his back and forces him to kneel awkwardly on the creaky metal. "Haven’t you learned your fucking lesson about putting your hands about where they don’t belong?"

Alastair glares. "You’re telling _me_ what to do, Winchester?" Alastair asks. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Oh for fuck’s sake, not this shit about people telling you what to do again. You sound like a whiny bitch."

Alastair smirks. "Don’t forget who was the bitch not too long ago, _Dean._ "

"Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass _again_ , Moorehouse," Dean says, twisting Alastair’s arm for emphasis. He garners a small amount of satisfaction at the pained yelp he hears before releasing him.

Dean turns to leave, spotting Tessa’s purse nearby. He reaches to pick it up, and hears the metal of the bleachers creak ominously. Before he can turn, hands are shoving at him, and Alastair is hissing something angrily, and Dean is falling, falling, he’s going to break his neck and die.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but all Dean can think is _fuck, fuck, fuck_ over and over again as he goes down in what feels like slow motion. He doesn’t feel anything when he lands. He isn’t aware of anything, everything just stops.

 

 

 

Death isn’t anything like he thought it would be.

 


	2. Assembly

**(September 2013)**

Castiel Shurley is running late for his first day of senior year, and he’s in a foul mood because of it. He did independent study courses all summer at his new school, was always perfectly punctual, and of course once school actually starts he’s late. Gabriel thought it would be a funny prank to unplug Castiel’s alarm in the middle of the night. It wasn’t. He rushes to get ready, wondering for the hundredth time this week why Gabriel insists on living at home.

He’s glad he took the time to lay out his clothes the night before; white oxford, dark blue sweatervest, and tan khakis. His outfit of choice. His dark brown hair is in disarray, but that’s nothing new. He has to turn and run back into his house when he gets onto his bike and realizes he’s wearing one black converse shoe, and one dark brown loafer. How did that even happen?

By the time he arrives at the school and locks his bike up on the rack out front, he’s over ten minutes late and no one is even outside. The halls are quiet as he heads for where he _thinks_ his first class is. He’s running past the gym when he realizes he can hear the amplified voice of a woman talking.

"The bleachers are brand new, so if you notice any problems with them, please let the office know," a woman says. She sounds bored and annoyed, and when Castiel peeks into the gym, he recognizes the face of Principal Naomi Drummond from the staff directory. Fantastic, he’s missed part of an assembly.

Castiel slips into the gym, spotting his summer study group off to the side. Balthazar waves him over, and Samandriel scoots to make room while the principal is nattering on about taking good care of the new bleachers. Castiel sits with them, smiling. He feels fortunate to be starting the year with a group of friends, especially since he’s still technically new to the school. During the summer study program he only interacted with a handful of students and teachers, and was mostly confined to the library, but Balthazar, Hester, Rachel, Inias, and Samandriel were all very welcoming to Castiel from the very first session.

"Didn’t peg you for the sort to be late to the first day of school, Cassie," Balthazar says with a grin.

"Gabriel," Castiel replies, and his friends nod in understanding. Most of them have met Castiel’s brother, and those that haven’t have heard the tales of woe.

"Alright," Principal Drummond says gravely, "now on to the important part of this assembly. As most of you know, an _illegal_ party was thrown here at the close of the last school year, one with some very serious consequences. One of our graduates was intoxicated, and had a nasty fall down the bleachers— no not _these_ bleachers, Reznick, these are new— and is still in the hospital. This is just an example of the sort of thing that can go wrong when a bunch of unsupervised minors throw parties, partaking in substances they’re too young to handle."

As the principal continues talking about the dangers and consequences of nefarious activities on school grounds, Balthazar whispers to the group conspiratorially.

"You know, I heard from a girl who knows a girl who knows Tessa that she doesn’t think it was an accident," Balthazar says. Castiel has heard some chatter about the accident that landed Dean Winchester in a coma over the summer, enough to know that Tessa Graves is the poor girl that discovered him after his fall.

"Not an accident," whispers Rachel, "but then what does she think happened?"

"Word is Lawrence High’s resident second-year senior attacked Tessa during the party, and Dean _saved_ her. When she snuck back in for her purse a bit later, she found Dean unconscious and bloody at the bottom of the bleachers and Alastair was nowhere to be found," Balthazar says.

"Which one is Alastair?" Castiel asks. Balthazar surreptitiously gestures to the other end of the curved bleachers.

"See the tall one with the goatee? The scowling one next to the girl dressed in all the dark leather? That’s Alastair. He fucked up too many of his classes last year and didn’t even _try_ doing summer school, so he’s repeating his senior year," Balthazar says. Castiel looks at Alastair, trying to be inconspicuous. The guy is creepy. Castiel wonders if the things Balthazar heard are true, it’s a scary thought that he might be going to school with someone like that.

Castiel is jolted back to the principal’s lecture when the microphone screeches and she apologizes.

"Alright, now it’s no secret that Dean Winchester’s brother Sam is a sophomore here," Principal Drummond says, and Castiel can tell who Sam is right away because several of the students turn to look at him. The boy curls in on himself slightly at the focus, letting his mop of brown hair fall in front of his face. Drummond clears her throat and the attention snaps back to her. "His brother’s condition is his own business, and you are _not_ to ask him about the coma, I can’t be any clearer than that. It is not your business, and it is not something for you to make a mockery of, and I want you to think long and hard before you go bothering him about it, because I _will_ get wind of it, and then you will be dealing with me," the principal growls. Castiel watches the wave of unease that ripples through the students. Drummond is very intimidating.

"That woman scares the shit out of me," Balthazar mutters. Castiel nods in agreement.

"Now, I know that it’s been three months since Dean Winchester’s accident, but if any students need to talk about it please do not hesitate to sit down with our counselor, Ms. Moseley. Appointments can be made with the office, and she does have drop-in hours during fourth and fifth period lunch." Drummond pauses a moment, looking at a few index cards in her hand. "Alright, I think that’s everything. You have some free time before second period begins, I suggest using that time to acquaint yourselves with your schedule and the location of your next class. File out of the gym in an _orderly_ fashion, or you’ll find yourself with the embarrassing honor of being the first one sent to my office this year," Drummond finishes. With that, the students slowly begin exiting the gym, some patting Sam on the back and offering encouraging smiles as they go past.

It makes Castiel sad, watching Sam shuffle out of the room. Gabriel is a pain in his neck, and his relationship with his oldest brother Michael is incredibly strained, but the thought of them lying in a hospital bed completely unresponsive makes Castiel’s heart clench. He can’t even imagine how Sam must be feeling.

Hester looks at Sam, then back at Castiel. "Awful, isn’t it? Sam and Dean have always been very close, I can’t even conceive how much he must miss his big brother," she says, shaking her head sadly. Castiel nods, frowning.

For a moment, he swears he can see Alastair glaring at Sam, but an instant later he’s talking and laughing with his leather-clad friend, and Castiel assumes his imagination is getting away from him.


	3. Bully For Cas

It’s over a week into classes before Castiel’s problems start. He arrives at school, and as he locks up his bike he hears a yelp of pain. He’s familiar with the sort of yelp he’s hearing, it’s the kind he made when some kid was picking on him and he would try to hold in the noises to rob them of the satisfaction, only to crack and let the noise out anyway. He hates that noise. He looks over to the front of the school and sees Alastair and Sam. Sam’s school items are spilled all over the ground, and Alastair has Sam’s arm twisted behind his back. It looks painful, and Castiel is disgusted. Bullying is always a sore spot with him, but Alastair has to be at least four years older than Sam, is a great deal taller, and looks stronger. He isn’t even picking on someone his own size.

Before he can stop to consider just what it is he thinks he’s doing, Castiel marches right up and pulls Alastair off of Sam. Alastair looks like he’s stronger than Castiel, but Castiel has the element of surprise working for him. Alastair looks at him, startled and then angry.

"May I fucking help you?" Alastair growls.

"I’m sure whatever grievance you have with him can be solved without physically harming him," Castiel says with a glare. "Leave him be."

"Are you fucking telling me what to do?" Alastair yells. Castiel realizes that several students are now watching with shocked looks on their faces. Castiel is about to reply when his AP English Literature teacher, Ms. Visyak, comes marching out of the school, holding a coffee soaked white cardigan and scowling as she makes her way to the parking lot. Alastair makes a frustrated noise, storming toward the school and making sure to bump Castiel’s shoulder hard on his way past.

Castiel helps Sam pick up the scattered items that have spilled from his open backpack, and Sam gives him a grateful smile.

"Thank you," Sam says, "I have no idea what I did to piss him off. I don’t even know him!"

"You probably did nothing wrong. From what I hear, Alastair is just unpleasant in general," Castiel reassures him.

"Thank you, uh," Sam pauses, waiting for Castiel to fill in the missing information.

"Castiel Shurley," Castiel says with a smile. Sam smiles back.

"Sam Winchester. But you probably know that, because the whole _school_ knows that," Sam says. The bell rings, and Sam’s head shoots up, alarmed. "Gotta go!" Sam says, running for the school. He shoots Castiel a small wave, which Castiel returns.

Castiel grins. Sam reminds him of himself a year or two back. He cared more about attendance back then.

Castiel feels paranoid for most of the day, his concern that Alastair might retaliate screws with his focus during his classes, but the school day ends without incident.

He’s not so lucky the next day.

He arrives at school and is promptly accosted and manhandled into the empty gym by Alastair and a few sneering friends. The four of them take a few turns punching Castiel in the stomach and chest, until Castiel crumples to the floor. He looks up to glare at them and sees another student standing near the entrance, scowling at Alastair. Castiel has never seen this guy before, but school has only been in session for a handful of days. He’s attractive; tall, with spiky light brown hair, bright green eyes, and it’s hard to tell from this distance but Castiel thinks he sees a few freckles as well. He’s wearing a beat up but sturdy looking leather jacket over a black t-shirt and green flannel, blue jeans, and work boots. Rugged in every way that Castiel isn’t. He’s just watching, looking miffed. Castiel wonders why he doesn’t help if he has such a problem with what’s going on. He takes a particularly harsh kick to the stomach and closes his eyes to curl up in pain. Alastair’s friends yell at him to calm down, and he backs away from Castiel and starts yelling at them about not telling him what to do. When Castiel looks up again, the boy is gone.

 

***

 

It’s nearly a week later before Castiel sees the boy again. He’s in his seventh period Latin class, taking notes and thinking about whether or not he should start using multiple pen colors to make his notes easier to differentiate. He suddenly has a feeling like he’s being watched and looks up to see the boy from the other day, leaning against the wall near the door. Watching him. Castiel is confused. He didn’t hear the boy come in, and no one seems to care that he’s standing around in the middle of Mr. Singer’s lecture. They stare at each other for a moment, and Castiel can’t help but think that the boy is rather beautiful. He doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to the attractiveness of others, but something about this person is pleasing to him. The boy waves at him. Castiel dazedly lifts a hand to wave back, and is stunned when the boy vanishes before his eyes.


	4. Dean

Castiel is more than a little distracted as he leaves Latin, which is how he bumps into Sam in the hallway, knocking Sam’s notebooks and binders out of his hands and onto the floor.

"I’m so sorry," Castiel says, crouching to help Sam pick up his items.

"You’ve got to look both ways before crossing the hall," Sam says with a smile. Castiel lifts his knee when he realizes he’s kneeling on a photo, and he’s about to hand it to Sam when he stops. It’s a photo of Sam, slightly younger than he is now, standing at a table with what looks like pie filling all over his face and looking close to vomiting. Next to him, face covered in the same filling and beaming with a thumbs up for the camera, is the boy Castiel just saw vanish. Castiel’s theory that he hallucinated him withers and dies slightly, this boy is very real. He turns to Sam, trying not to sound too manic.

"This is a...charming photo," Castiel says, hoping his voice sounds casual.

"Oh," Sam says, sounding a little sad, "I brought that to put up in my locker, I figured I’d wait until people weren’t around to give me awkward concerned looks." At Castiel’s confused expression, Sam continues. "That’s my brother, Dean. The one they talked about at the assembly, he’s been in a coma for the past four months. He um, he won the pie eating contest we were having." Castiel’s thoughts are going a mile a minute, but Sam is still there, he can’t freak out yet. He hands the photo back to Sam, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

"You’re much younger, he had an unfair advantage," Castiel reasons. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

"Nope, he had to eat a half a pie before I started, that excuse doesn’t work. Or at least that’s what he always says. I threw up not twenty seconds later," Sam says with a grimace.

"This is a good memory for you?" Castiel asks, confused. People usually have keepsake photos to remember _good_ times. Not the times they vomited up a bunch of pie.

"I’ve always liked this photo, it’s messy and _real_ , you know? It was just this silly thing my family did because my mom was in a baking mood, and well I guess my dad wanted to see us act like idiots. But, yeah, horrible stomach ache aside, it’s a good memory," Sam says with a grin. Castiel can’t help but smile back.

"It really is a charming photo," Castiel offers, "I can see now why you want to keep it." Sam nods enthusiastically.

"I know it’s a little weird because people usually put up pictures of their girlfriend or maybe their celebrity crush inside their locker, but this photo makes me happy, I like the idea that it’ll be there waiting for me every morning when I get to school. Anyway, I’m going to go get some tape from the office. Have a good day, Castiel!"

Castiel waits for Sam to get out of his field of vision before turning and sprinting out of the school.

 

***

 

Castiel practically flings his bicycle in the garage when he gets home, rushing up to his room to get on his laptop. He collides with his brother when he reaches the top of the stairs. Gabriel looks at him with a mix of concern and amusement.

"Where’s the fire, baby bro?" Gabriel asks. Castiel straightens himself out, trying to look less frantic than he feels.

"I have an assignment," Castiel tries. Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

"An assignment you were so keen on that you were running up the stairs as soon as you got home?" Gabriel says, smirking. Castiel doesn’t even want to know what it is Gabriel thinks he’s up to.

"Don’t you have a job to be getting to?" Castiel grouses.

Gabriel shrugs. "I’ve still got a while before I head to the restaurant."

"Well, I have something to go work on, so if you’ll excuse me," Castiel says, pushing past his brother. Gabriel chuckles.

"You know, I have a membership to some _amazing_ porn sites I can share when you’re ready to move up from searching ‘big tits’ on Google," Gabriel says, poking Castiel hard in the ribs. He outright laughs at the horrified expression Castiel’s face contorts into before strolling down the stairs.

Castiel hurries into his room and drops his bag and coat on his bed. He wants to lock the door, but Gabriel already seems to think he’s up here getting ready to pleasure himself and locking the door would likely just add to that assumption. He boots up his laptop and types in ‘Dean Winchester’ in Google. The results are a bit too broad so he amends his search to include ‘Kansas’. He finds an article on the website for the city newspaper dated several months ago, reporting Dean’s accident at Lawrence High. There’s not much to the story, it mentions an unauthorized after hours graduation party on school grounds, and a student, Dean, that was found unconscious at the bottom of the bleachers in the gym. The article lists Dean’s condition as critical, though at some point that obviously changed. From what Castiel has heard in whispers around school, Dean’s stable now, just in a coma.

Castiel goes back to the search results page, and sees a link to Dean’s Facebook account. After a moment of indecision he clicks the link, bringing up Dean’s public profile. It’s nothing unusual, just posts about things Dean likes, and more recently comments from friends saying they miss him. Dean’s cover photo is a family picture, one that must be a good fifteen years old, but Castiel can just barely recognize Dean as the chubby child holding a dark haired infant in his lap while his parents look on. The profile picture appears to have been taken the same day as the photo that Sam had, but in this one the Winchester brothers are in the middle of eating their pies. It’s incredibly unappealing, and Castiel can’t help but smile that Dean would choose an arguably unflattering photo to represent himself; Castiel’s profile picture is just a photo of him smiling at the camera during Christmas festivities.

Castiel feels guilty, like he’s intruding on something that’s none of his business, so he closes the page and moves on to his next search: ghost lore. He’s always loved folklore and mythology, going back to his childhood. A lot of that love came from his father, Chuck, who writes horror novels under the pen name Carver Edlund. He would tell Castiel and his brothers stories about ghosts, ghouls, and other monsters, and while Michael and Gabriel always rolled their eyes, Castiel couldn’t get enough. The bookshelves in his room are full of books on mythology, religion, and folk tales, but he’s been through them enough times to know that none of them mention anything about ghosts when the person in question is still alive. As far as Castiel knows, Dean isn’t brain dead.

Castiel groans, rubbing a hand against his face in agitation. He’s sitting here thinking about ghost lore as if it’s all true and not just made of the myths and legends his father uses to write his stories.

"I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this idea," Castiel mutters to himself. But he knows what he saw. With a deep sigh, Castiel opens up Google and starts plugging in search terms.

Hours pass, and Castiel has gained very, very little information. The problem with looking up supernatural occurrences, Castiel has discovered, is that search engines don’t know what’s fiction and what are actual possible accounts. Castiel has been wading through countless pages on ghost lore, and many links end up taking him to fansites for fictional works, including pages dedicated to Carver Edlund stories. Any time he _does_ find a page from an actual believer in ghost lore, there is no mention about apparitions belonging to someone still alive.

It’s after midnight when Castiel finally gives up on his search. He spends the next two hours slogging his way through his homework before flinging himself into his bed for a fitful sleep.

 

***

 

When Castiel jolts awake, he has five minutes until school starts, and he’s still in yesterday’s clothes. Without bothering to change, he brushes his teeth, stuffs his homework in his backpack, and after being unsuccessful in his attempts to wake Gabriel for a ride, sprints out of the house to get his bike.

He’s half an hour late and locking up his bike in front of the school when he sees Alastair approaching him. He squeezes his eyes shut, cursing this day and Alastair and wishing he’d just stayed home.

"Is it such a problem," Castiel says, turning to face Alastair fully, "that I asked you not to pick on Sam?" Alastair actually rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, it’s obviously a problem, newbie."

"Castiel," Castiel bites back.

"Yeah well I don’t like being told what to do, _Castiel_ ," Alastair hisses. Castiel’s name sounds so ugly on Alastair’s tongue, he doesn’t like it. Castiel’s posture deflates. God, he’s so tired.

"I just want to get to class, Alastair," he mumbles, "I don’t want any trouble." Alastair grabs Castiel by the collar, making him trip a few steps closer.

"Yeah, well, you have trouble anyway," he says, grinning in a predatory way that makes Castiel’s woefully empty stomach turn. "I’m feeling generous today, though. I’m going to give you a choice. I can kick your ass right now, or I can wait for little Sammy after school and beat the shit out of him instead."

Castiel definitely should have stayed in bed. He sets his backpack down, glaring at Alastair, who grins and steps forward as Castiel holds his arms out in defeat.

"What is your problem with Sam? He’s got to be four, maybe five years younger than you, and he seems like a really nice kid," Castiel says.

"I don’t like his face," Alastair barks.

Just before Castiel gets a fist to his stomach, he thinks he catches a glimpse of Dean standing closer to the school, watching them with a frown.

 

***

 

Thursday is his weekly after school group study day, so when classes are over Castiel drags himself to the library. It’s nothing mandatory, just something set up by Hester. They meet in the library on Thursdays to help each other out with different projects for an hour or two, and chat. Castiel has felt pretty lucky that he happened to fall ass-backwards into a circle of friends over the summer, especially since aside from getting to know Sam a little, he hasn’t made any other friends since the school year started.

Castiel still very much has Dean on his mind, and it’s not long before he asks his friends what they know about him.

"Why do you want to know?" Balthazar asks, eyebrows raised.

"I’ve run into his brother a couple of times, I guess I’m just a bit curious," Castiel lies.

"Well," Rachel says, leaning forward, "I never really met him, but he seemed like a pretty nice guy. He wasn’t popular or anything, but had plenty of friends."

"Sam was a freshman last year, and Dean was really protective of him," Samandriel chimes in.

"Well, he may be a swell big brother, but he’s got shit taste in women," Balthazar interjects, "he dated my shrew of a sister."

"Dean and _Bela_? How did I miss that?" demands Hester. She rolls her eyes and shrugs. "Nevermind. Anyway, Dean has like a huge string of ex-girlfriends, but a lot of them graduated last year. I heard from Ellie that Dean is a _great_ kisser, but not so great with commitment. They only lasted a month before Dean was with Tessa." Castiel turns to Hester.

"Tessa? The girl that found him, right?" he asks. Hester nods. "Do you guys believe her, about how she thought Alastair might have hurt Dean?"

"I wouldn’t be surprised," Balthazar whispers, "that guy has got about a dozen screws loose in that creepy head of his. He’s damn scary." Castiel slumps in his chair at that.

"Yes, I seem to have gained his ire as of late," Castiel says. Hester thumps her hands down on the table.

"What?! Has he hurt you, Castiel?!" she yells. The librarian calls for them to keep it down from behind his magazine. When Castiel doesn’t answer, Hester continues. "If he’s harassing you, you need to tell the principal."

"I think high school is hard enough without being labeled a snitch less than a month into the school year," Castiel mumbles. He shouldn’t have brought this up. "I think he’s already lost interest," Castiel lies again. Hester glares, clearly irritated, but she backs down.

 

***

 

Castiel is the last to leave, other than the snoring librarian. He was on a roll with his history paper and didn’t want to pause to pack up and head home, so he stayed behind a few extra minutes to finish his thought. The school is a bit creepy at this time of day, devoid of chatter or the sounds of chairs scraping across linoleum. The sun is low when Castiel exits the building, but there’s still a decent amount of daylight, for which Castiel is grateful, because the parking lot is virtually deserted as well, and the silence is even more disturbing outdoors. He’s walking over to the bike rack while scoping out the parking lot, not noticing the figure standing by his bike until he’s right there. His eyes widen when he looks in front of him to see Dean Winchester.

"So," Dean says casually, "I guess you can see me."

"I...yes. You’re Dean," Castiel replies, mind grinding to a panicked halt.

"Yeah."

"You’re in a coma."

"Yeah."

Castiel stares at Dean for a long moment before lurching forward and running away, leaving his bike and Dean far behind.

 


	5. Watcher

Castiel waits until his parents have gone to sleep around eleven before he heads out, making the long walk to the school. It’s going to be another sleepy day in class tomorrow. He could have just waited and retrieved his bike tomorrow, but he can’t help but feel guilty for running away like he did. Dean hadn’t seemed malicious or dangerous, and Castiel might be the only person that can see him. Castiel would feel awful if the first person he had contact with in months turned and fled. The closer he gets to the school, the more nervous Castiel feels. He doesn’t go walking anywhere at night; he’s usually at home reading. Lawrence isn’t known for being particularly dangerous at night, but Castiel is headed right for a building he now knows is _genuinely_ haunted.

He reaches his bike without incident, there’s no sign of Dean. He feels oddly disappointed. He’s unlocking the bike when he hears the voice.

"You came back," Dean says. Castiel whips around to face him, making sure the bike is between them like some kind of pitiful protection.

"My bike," Castiel says by way of explanation. Dean just nods.

"Yeah."

"And, I also… I’m sorry. For running away, I mean. It’s just that you’re…"

"A ghost. No, I get it," Dean says, shrugging.

"I’ve never seen a ghost before. I didn’t think I _believed_ in ghosts."

"Yeah, I didn’t either until I woke up next to my body and no one could see or hear me," Dean says with a frown. Castiel sits on the sidewalk next to the bike rack, and Dean sits nearby, which is puzzling. What exactly is he sitting on if he’s an apparition?

"I’m Castiel."

"Yeah, I’ve seen you around," Dean says, as if this is just a normal conversation between two students.

"You’ll forgive me if I find that a little disturbing," Castiel responds bluntly. Dean quirks a brief smile at that.

"I’ve been here like four months, man, and I can’t go past the parking lot. I’m tethered here. There’s nothing to do but watch people… and there weren’t a lot of people here over the summer. Just the summer school kids that had to play catch up, and your merry band of overachievers. By the way, Hester and Inias? Totally fucking," Dean says, sounding almost proud. Castiel is startled by the news.

"Really?"

"Saw them going at it in an empty classroom over the summer. The janitor caught them, and Hester gave him a hundred bucks to not rat them out to the summer staff. It was great."

"Hester and Inias are the captains of an abstinence group for teenagers at their church," Castiel says slowly.

Dean laughs. "I _know_ , it’s so awesome."

"Hester wears a purity ring," Castiel adds. Dean just nods frantically, grinning. Castiel can’t help but think that he has such a lovely smile.

"God, it feels good to talk to someone. I mean, and have them talk back. I talk all the time, I just don’t have anyone hear me."

"It sounds very lonely."

"Yeah. I miss my family. I’m glad school started though, I get to see Sammy now. Thanks, by the way."

"What? What did I do?" Castiel can’t think of anything he’s done for Dean.

"I saw you defend my brother," Dean says. Castiel looks down at his feet.

"I also saw your response when you were offered an out."

"Alastair is… I hope he will lose interest."

"Alastair," Dean growls. Castiel looks up in surprise. Dean is angry, and seems to have been set off by Alastair’s name being spoken. Dean flickers, his image going sort of blurry and translucent, then vanishes altogether.

"Dean?" Castiel calls, looking around. He sits for ten minutes, waiting, but Dean doesn’t come back, so he gathers his bike and heads home.

 

***

 

Castiel looks around for Dean the next day, but doesn’t see him. He sees Hester and Inias though, arguing at their lockers. He finds himself seeing their interactions in a very new light now that he knows their relationship is not entirely platonic. There’s an awkward moment when they catch Castiel watching them, they look almost panicked and both step apart from each other before busying themselves with their backpacks. Castiel would find it more amusing if he weren’t still feeling a bit disappointed about not seeing Dean.

Over the weekend, Castiel does his homework like usual, he rolls his eyes at Gabriel’s jokes like usual, he talks about folklore with his father like usual, but he doesn’t feel quite normal. He can’t stop thinking about Dean, and on Sunday Castiel takes his bike to the school to look for him. He locks his bike up and wanders around the school grounds, thinking he might see him. He spends nearly an hour searching before he starts to feel ridiculous and goes home to bed.

He thinks a little less about Dean after that.

 

***

 

It’s a Tuesday, two weeks later.

Castiel is late to school and worried Alastair will show up while the halls are deserted. He tries not to be afraid, but he’s caught Alastair giving him disturbingly thoughtful looks over the past week or so, and he can’t help but be wary of where it’s headed. He’s running through the hallway when he trips over something. His hands go flying out in front of him, and he barely manages to stop himself from hitting the floor face first. He’s just barely starting to realize that he tripped over someone’s leg when someone pulls him up, dragging him off to the side. He’s pulled into a dark room, a hand clamped over his mouth. He can’t see anything, but he can tell the room is very small. A maintenance closet, probably. Castiel’s blood runs cold at the voice in his ear.

"I wouldn’t scream if I were you." Alastair, of course.

"If you don’t start going to class, you’re going to have to repeat your senior year a third time," Castiel states icily, then instantly regrets it when Alastair shoves him away to punch him in the stomach. Castiel staggers back several steps, gasping in pain when his head smacks against something metal, probably a shelf.

"I just wanted you to see how easy it is for me to get to you," Alastair practically purrs, "I don’t want you complacent, Angel. I want you scared, all the time. You never know when I might be watching, when I might pounce." Alastair runs his hands down Castiel’s sides, and Castiel could vomit at the way it makes his skin crawl. "Can you do that for me, Angel? Can you be scared?"

"Please just let me go, Alastair," Castiel mutters, shuddering.

"Do you want me to find someone else to play with? That offer is still on the table. I can go play with Sam instead. Maybe he’ll be better behaved," Alastair muses.

"Maybe I’ll just report you," Castiel spits. Alastair grabs a fistful of Castiel’s hair, pulling his head back.

"You can do that, but I won’t be responsible for what I might do to you in retaliation," Alastair says, flicking the light on. Castiel’s stomach turns at the sight of his oily grin.

"I understand, Alastair."

"Can you be scared for me, Angel?"

"Yes," Castiel says, and it’s not a lie. He’s scared because this is fucking scary. Alastair is violent and unpredictable, and it’s terrifying.

"That’s great, Angel," Alastair coos. He runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair and Castiel fights the urge to slap his hand away. "Now, I’m going to go to class. You’re right, wouldn’t want to get held back again. I want you to wait a few minutes before coming out, okay? People will _talk_ if they see us staggering out of a janitor’s closet together. Alright?"

"Alright," Castiel mumbles. Alastair grins and then leaves, giving a sickening little wave as he goes. Castiel checks the closed door for a lock but doesn’t find one. He leans against it, sinking until he’s on the floor, burying his face in his knees. He lets out a shuddering breath, then a quiet sob. He’s scared, just like Alastair wants. He can’t even imagine getting up and leaving this closet and continuing with his day like everything is fine. He jerks violently against the door when he hears a voice.

"Cas?" Castiel opens his eyes and looks at the other end of the closet. Dean is there, crouching and staring at him with so much concern. Castiel’s heart sinks.

"Dean. Were… were you…" Castiel sighs. "You saw." Dean nods and Castiel lets out another sob. Dean lifts a hand like he wants to comfort Castiel, then drops it back at his side. It makes the moment even more depressing.

"It felt wrong, watching. But I didn’t want you to be alone," Dean says, looking uncomfortable.

"I couldn’t see you."

"You haven’t seen me for days. I got really mad last time I saw you, something about hearing Alastair’s name out loud. Which is so stupid, it’s just a name. Then things went a little fuzzy, and when I came back to myself you’d already gone home, and then… you just didn’t see me. I don’t know, I guess that’s just how it is. I’ve been here for months, after all, and you never saw me before. It’s weird, but I can kind of tell when I’m… _here_ enough for you to see me. It feels different. I feel heavier. I mean not like heavy like I can touch things… ugh, I’m sorry, Cas. I’m babbling and it’s hard to explain anyway," Dean trails off, looking awkward. Castiel wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his usual white oxford.

"It’s alright. It’s interesting. I tried reading up on ghost mythology, but there was a lot of information. Some articles said that the room gets colder when a ghost is nearby, and that ghosts stay with their remains, and that they’re see-through. None of that applies to you. I mean, you went a little see-through before you vanished, but most of the time you look like a regular person. And you definitely don’t look like someone that fell down a set of bleachers," Castiel says. Dean snorts.

"Fell," he grumbles. Castiel frowns, but before he can say anything, Dean keeps talking. "We should talk about this, Cas, about what happened. You looked so scared, I hated it."

"He seems very fixated on me," Castiel says with a sigh.

"He likes your eyes, thinks you’re pretty. I heard him talking to Meg Masters about it yesterday, it was fucking creepy," Dean grumbles. Castiel feels a shiver run through him.

"That is indeed disturbing. He frightens me, and I hate that fact."

"Last year I just thought he was a little intense," Dean says, sounding incredibly uncomfortable, "We, ugh, don’t repeat this… we had a thing."

"A thing," Castiel repeats.

"Yeah, a _thing_ okay? I spent high school dating and fooling around with a lot of girls, then the one I get serious about fucking dumps me at some house party, Alastair hands me a beer and we get to talking, and we… we had a _thing._ We’d meet at his place after school and fuck. His parents are always at work or on business trips or some shit." Castiel can’t picture them together at all, not that he wants to.

"That… but he’s so…"

"I _know,_ okay? But I was really fucked up over Lisa, and I’d never been with a guy before, and at the time I found his intensity kind of hot. But then he started getting rougher, and meaner, and I lost my patience. A couple of nights before the school year ended, we got into an argument, and the fucker hit me. I think he got it in his head that I was easy to push around, maybe I was too timid in our relationsh— fuck, did I really just use that word? Whatever. I kicked his ass, and that was that," Dean says. He’s gesturing wildly as he speaks, and Castiel is slightly fascinated by the way his hands don’t make a sound when they slap together in anger. In fact, other than his words and the occasional sigh or laugh, Dean is very silent.

"I wish I could see Alastair get beat up," Castiel remarks. Dean shakes his head.

"The whole thing was a mistake. Hooking up with him, and definitely fighting with him. He was meaner than ever the last week of school, just not to me. Then on graduation night, I caught him in the gym attacking a girl I used to date, Tessa."

"I had heard a rumor about that."

"Well, it wasn’t a rumor. I told Tessa to get out of there, and stuck around to yell at Alastair that he needed to chill the fuck out," Dean’s image is flickering a bit while he talks, and Castiel feels a little worried. "That’s when he yelled that no one is going to order him around or what the fuck ever, then I turned to pick up Tessa’s purse, and he fucking pushed me, and… and then suddenly I was looking down at my own body from a foot away and Alastair was running out of the gym," Dean says, sounding a heartbreaking combination of angry and depressed.

"He did this to you. That’s why his name makes you that angry," Castiel offers. Dean shrugs slightly.

"Not exactly. He always made me yell his name when he fucked me. It’s kind of a sore spot. This is why though, Cas. This is why he was picking on Sammy until you stepped in. He put me in a _coma_ and he’s still trying to get back at me." Dean’s image flickers again.

"I think you might vanish again if you don’t calm down," Castiel says.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. I just… I miss a lot of things. I miss my family, and I miss eating, and I miss my car, and being warm. I miss watching Dr. Sexy. I bet a new season is starting."

"Doctor Sexy, MD?" Castiel asks, smiling. Dean glares.

"It’s a guilty pleasure, okay?"

"I’m sure it’s very entertaining. My mother is a big fan," Castiel teases.

"I think I heard you mention to your friends that your mom writes trashy romance novels," Dean says. Castiel nods.

"Yes. And apparently you share an interest in her favorite television program."

"You know, between telling you I like chick shows and that I bottomed for the creepiest guy in school, I’m starting to feel like you pose a threat to my reputation as a charming womanizer with impeccable taste."

"Do not fear, Dean. I don’t think anyone would believe I have private information about a boy that went into a coma over a week before I moved to town," Castiel assures Dean with a smile.

"Good. No one needs to know about my shit taste in men."

"I heard that Tessa came back and found you. I wish she had seen what happened, maybe she would have reported Alastair to the police," Castiel says, smile fading.

"She didn’t even report what he did to _her,_ or so I’ve gathered. He’s a scary guy. That’s why he gets away with shit," Dean says. He sounds very tired all of a sudden.

"You deserve justice," Castiel says.

"I’m inclined to agree with you."

The bell for the end of first period rings and Castiel jumps to his feet in surprise. "I missed my AP European History class."

"Sorry, man. I told you that you should talk, and then spilled my life story instead."

"It’s okay, Dean. I learned a great deal from our conversation, and I’m much more calm. I’m glad I can see you again," Castiel says.

"I’m sorry, Cas. I wish I could help, I mean really help. In some way that doesn’t end with you or Sammy getting hurt."

"If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather Alastair pick on me than your fifteen year old brother."

"No, no that doesn’t really make me feel any better."

"It will be okay. High school isn’t forever, and maybe you’ll wake up and you can talk to the police."

Dean sighs.

"You’d better get to your next class," he says, then vanishes. Castiel is startled. He can’t tell if Dean vanished intentionally, but either way, he’s gone. Castiel leaves the closet, ignoring the odd looks he is given by students in the hallway.

He’s in his last class of the day when he thinks of something he can do for Dean.

 

***

 

Castiel heads home after school and downloads the season premiere of Doctor Sexy MD onto his laptop while he works on his homework. He finishes his assignments by nine, then sneaks out of the house and bikes back to the school, excited. The school is locked up tight, so he walks around the perimeter a few times, hoping to spot Dean. After three laps around the school he decides it’s time to give up for the night. Dean flickers into view as Castiel is preparing to unlock his bike.

"I’ve got this feeling like you’re looking for me," Dean says, clearly pleased.

"Don’t be conceited, I could be here for any number of reasons," Castiel says.

"Uh huh."

"I could be doing an early senior prank, or sleepwalking."

"Sleep-biking."

"Yes, of course," Castiel says, rolling his eyes at Dean’s grin. He sits on the ground next to the bike rack and takes his laptop out of his bag. He opens the downloaded file but pauses it before it can start playing. "Have a seat, Dean."

Dean looks puzzled but sits next to Castiel, who taps the spacebar to unpause the video. As soon as Dean hears a voiceover say "Last season, on Doctor Sexy, MD…" he turns excitedly to Castiel.

"You didn’t!"

"Quiet now," Castiel says, "I’m watching the recap." Castiel sees Dean beaming at him out of the corner of his eye, before turning his attention the laptop screen. Even with the recap at the start of the episode, Castiel is fairly lost as the episode begins. He’s never seen more than a few random minutes of the show while his mother watched. A man in cowboy boots that Castiel knows to be the title character is arguing with a female doctor about how to treat a woman in labor with triplets while there is a gunman running loose in the hospital. It seems a little ridiculous, but when Castiel glances at Dean, he looks riveted. By the end of the forty-four minute video file, the triplets have been safely delivered, Dr. Sexy has killed the shooter, and the woman he was arguing with has accepted a marriage proposal from Dr. Sexy’s rival. Dean seems pretty mad about this turn of events.

"This is so stupid! Dr. Piccolo is in love with Dr. Sexy, she needs to just admit it!" Dean rants.

"They seemed to have a history together," Castiel says.

"Oh hell yeah. They’ve been through earthquakes, tornadoes, shipwrecks."

"This has always been a hospital show, right?"

"Hey it sounds ridiculous when I just _list_ the things like that."

"Yes."

"It’s different if you’ve been watching for years, okay?" Dean folds his arms, scowling.

"I will have to take your word for it," Castiel says with a shrug. Dean’s scowl morphs into a smile.

"This meant a lot to me, Cas. Thank you," Dean says earnestly.

"I should have another episode in a few days. I believe I read that it airs on Thursdays."

"Fuck, that’s awesome. I’ve really missed this show," Dean says wistfully. Castiel smiles at the blank laptop screen.

"I’m glad I was able to do something for you," he says quietly. He looks over at Dean, who is staring at him with something akin to awe. Their eyes lock, and Dean gasps, his form flickers very noticeably.

"Wow," Dean says, sounding oddly breathless for someone that isn’t breathing.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it’s just. Fuck, this sounds like something a teenage girl would say… I looked at you, and I felt my heart skip a beat."

Castiel’s jaw drops a little. "That’s…"

"I mean I _felt_ it. It felt like I had a body for a second. I mean I feel emotions and a lot of the time I feel tired, but other than that, I don’t really feel physical sensations. That was… my heart." Dean looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. "So, um. It’s a school night, you’d better head home. Thanks again, Cas," Dean says before vanishing into thin air.

Castiel’s heart is thumping against his chest. He just had what his mother’s novels would describe as a _moment._ With a _ghost._ He has an odd feeling like Dean hung up the phone on him in the middle of a conversation, but mostly he just feels sort of dazed. That stunned feeling follows him all the way home, and he lies in bed, thinking of green eyes that shine even from the afterlife.


	6. Halloween

Nearly two weeks have gone by, and Castiel hasn’t seen Dean since their viewing of Doctor Sexy, MD. He has two more episodes saved to his laptop, and since it’s Thursday, another will be up for download tonight.

It’s Halloween, and his study friends are having a party at Balthazar’s home while his parents are conveniently out of town. Castiel has no plans to go. He’d rather go home and do his homework than engage in underaged drinking in a crowded living room on a school night, despite Balthazar’s complaints about what a ‘goody-goody’ that makes him.

The school allowed students to wear costumes today, provided the costumes were not sexually suggestive and did not have weapon-like accessories. Castiel has come dressed as John Constantine, complete with a battered tan trench coat, a pair of black slacks, and a dark tie that once belonged to Michael. People keep asking who he’s supposed to be and he’s growing tired of the blank and confused expressions he gets when he tells them. He wonders if he should have gone with a more popular character.

He’s walking to lunch when he hears someone call out to him.

"John Constantine, right?" Castiel turns to see Sam, and smiles.

"Yes, finally."

"That’s awesome, he’s such a badass character."

"Yes, I agree."

"Do you read a lot of comics?"

"Actually not really, but I found some of the mythology used in the Hellblazer series very compelling."

"You like Heaven and Hell stuff, then? Is that because of your name?" Sam asks. Castiel is surprised.

"I’m impressed, Sam. Not many people recognize my name."

"My girlfriend lent me a book about angels last month, it mentioned an angel with your name," Sam explains. He glances at the nearly empty hall and his eyes widen. "Oh crap, I’m going to be late for Math! Have a good day, Castiel!" Sam waves and then rushes off. Castiel notes that Sam is wearing hospital scrubs, a lab coat, and cowboy boots. Sam has dressed as Dean’s favorite television character, Castiel hopes Dean is nearby to see it.

 

***

 

Castiel’s usual after school study session has been cancelled so that Balthazar can get set up for his party. It’s just Castiel and Samandriel in the library; Samandriel wanted Castiel’s opinion on an assignment before he headed to Balthazar’s. By four o’clock Samandriel is gone, and Castiel is alone in the library, finishing up some Statistics homework before he packs up and heads home to work more. The librarian is nowhere to be seen, but that’s no surprise. Marv usually wanders off while Castiel’s study group is meeting, only returning at six to shoo them out and lock things up. Dean appears while Castiel is packing his bag.

"Dean!" Castiel’s smile dies when he sees the alarmed expression on Dean’s face.

"Cas, you gotta hide," Dean says, looking around the room. Castiel is baffled.

"What?"

"Alastair. He’s pissed about something, I don’t know. I just saw him ask Samandriel where you were, and the idiot told him, and there’s just something weird about his mood. I want you to hide until he’s gone, or that idiot librarian comes back. Hide under Marv’s desk, you’ll be hidden from the door."

"O-okay, Dean," Castiel says, heart beating wildly. He grabs his backpack and rushes to the other side of the room to wedge himself under Marv’s desk. He’s just working himself into a comfortable position when he hears the door creak and the sound of footsteps. He sees Dean standing next to the desk, and almost tells him to hide before he remembers no one else can see him. He hears the footsteps pause somewhere on the far side of the room.

"You left your coat out, Angel," Alastair says darkly. Castiel feels his hands clench in surprise and hears Dean mutter a curse. "I just want someone to have a chat with, Angel. I haven’t been talking to most of my friends lately, they really pissed me off when they started ordering me around." Dean makes a sarcastic snort.

"He means no one but Meg will talk to him after Alastair punched Virgil in the nose after school for suggesting he stop kicking you before. Fucking loser can’t even keep bully friends," Dean says.

"This will go a lot easier if you just come out, _Castiel,_ " Alastair promises. Dean kneels next to the desk.

"You know he’s full of shit, right? Stay right where you are," Dean orders. Castiel just nods, trying to keep his breathing quiet. He feels like he’s in a horror movie. He’s scared, and he hates the feeling. The fear, the anticipation, he hates that he feels almost weak. But he isn’t in a hurry to get his ass kicked trying to prove something. Dean looks up, then looks around, confused. "Where did he go? Fuck. Don’t move, okay?" When Castiel nods again, Dean walks toward the entrance to the library.

Castiel’s heart is pounding, and the short, shallow breaths he’s taking feel far too loud. He sees a pair of jean-clad legs just a second before two hands reach under the desk to drag him out.

"There you are," Alastair says.

"Cas! Cas!" Dean yells, rushing back over. Castiel is curled up slightly on the floor, clutching his bag for no reason and staring wide-eyed at Alastair.

"Why were you hiding from me, Angel?"

"I wasn’t, I wasn’t hiding from you," Castiel lies pathetically.

"Uh huh," Alastair replies, obviously not buying his poor attempt at deception. He yanks Castiel’s bag out of his hands and throws it to the side. Castiel has the inane thought that this is why he never brings his laptop to school before Alastair is straddling his hips and holding his wrists to the floor. Castiel looks over at Dean, who looks helpless and furious.

"Cas," Dean says sadly.

"Alastair," Castiel says slowly, "I need you to let me go." Alastair responds first by slapping him hard across the face.

"You’re giving me orders?" Alastair barks. Castiel finds a moment to be incredibly irritated by Alastair’s obsession with whether or not someone is telling him what to do.

"No, I’m not giving you orders. I’m asking. Please? Please let me go home," Castiel begs. God, he feels pathetic. Alastair runs a finger down Castiel’s cheek in a possessive way that makes him want to vomit.

"You ask so nicely. I think I like the way you say please," Alastair purrs.

"Fuck," Dean growls. Alastair is still talking, probably saying something creepy, but Castiel is listening to Dean now. "Look, don’t say please to him. It gets him all excited. I told you he hit me, and I beat him up, remember? That wasn’t the truth, Cas. That wasn’t the _whole_ truth. He didn’t just hit me, and I didn’t kick his ass until the next day," Dean says frantically. Castiel is startled when Alastair slaps him again.

"Are you listening to me?!" Alastair yells.

"I…" Castiel can’t figure out who to focus on, so he keeps listening to Dean.

"He did exactly what you’re thinking. I broke up with him, and he reacted in the most horrifying way. And the more I said please, the worse it was. Don’t beg. Jesus," Dean says. He looks wrecked, and Castiel wonders if he can cry or not as a ghost. He certainly looks like he wants to. "Just… fight him, go find that fucking librarian."

"I can’t, I don’t know how," Castiel says.

"Don’t know how to what?" Alastair asks. Castiel ignores him.

"Punch him in the fucking face, Cas!" Dean barks.

"What if that just makes it worse?" Castiel shoots back.

"I don’t fucking know!" Dean yells. Alastair slaps Castiel again.

"I feel like I don’t have your full attention," Alastair complains.

"Please, Alastair." It comes out before he even realizes he’s saying it and Castiel freezes.

"Perfect," Alastair says with a grin.

There’s a growled out "shit" from Dean off to the side before Alastair starts pulling off Castiel’s tie, then removes the suit jacket while Castiel stares at the ceiling, mind racing. Should he fight back? Try to talk him out of it? Close his eyes and go to a safe place in his mind? Which will have the worst results?

"I don’t want this." Castiel forces the words out, voice shaking. "You understand that. Right, Alastair?" Alastair pauses in unbuttoning Castiel’s shirt and looks down at him in surprise.

"What?"

"If somewhere in your mind you’ve decided I want this because I’m not fighting or screaming, I want you to know that you’re wrong. I’m not fighting because you’re physically stronger and I don’t know how to fight, especially while I’m so panicked," Castiel says.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean whispers.

"I’m not yelling at you to stop because you get violent when people tell you what to do. I’m not screaming for help because I’m afraid of what you’ll do in retaliation. I just wanted to make sure you understood that I’m not consenting. I’ve read that rapists," Alastair flinches at the word, "sometimes convince themselves that their target wanted it. I just want you to know that I don’t want it or anything to do with you. What you’re doing is wrong. You’re doing something people go to jail for."

Alastair is staring down at Castiel, looking completely bewildered. Castiel wants to push Alastair and run while he’s clearly distracted, but he’s too scared to move. This is the worst moment of his entire life. Alastair punches Castiel, then gets up and kicks him, over and over, yelling wordlessly. It’s absolutely terrifying. Alastair kicks him in the jaw, then turns and runs out of the library. Castiel rolls onto his side, spitting out a bit of blood. He thinks he might have bit his tongue or the inside of his cheek.

"Jesus," Dean says softly.

"Is he gone?"

Dean looks down at Castiel with an unreadable expression on his face. "Yeah, I think he’s gone," Dean says, looking around. Castiel nods. He wants to thank Dean for trying to help him. He wants to get his clothes back on and get the hell out of this library. But his body hurts, his head hurts, and the rush of terrified adrenaline is fading, leaving him dizzy and cold. He can hear Dean calling his name in a panic, but the sound feels farther and farther away as he slips into unconsciousness.

 

***

 

"Shurley. Shurley! CASTIEL!"

Castiel rouses to the feel of someone shaking him vigorously. He opens his eyes slowly, and the first thing he sees is Dean, leaning against a far wall. Castiel should ask him if he knows how he can lean against things and sit on sidewalks, and oh yeah how are ghosts real? His eyes drift to the digital clock on the wall above Dean’s head. It reads 8:13 p.m., which means the person shaking him and yelling his name is either a janitor, or the librarian. Castiel can’t believe he’s been lying here for over two hours, where the hell does the damn librarian go when he wanders off? He turns his head and sure enough, Marv’s sweaty, panicked face is inches away.

"Oh, thank God!" Marv exclaims. Castiel winces at the loud voice. He did just wake up, after all.

"Yeah, God," Castiel mutters. Marv shakes him again.

"Who did this to you, Castiel?!" Castiel hesitates. He hasn’t forgotten Alastair’s response when threatened with being reported. If he reports Alastair and the case doesn’t stick, Alastair will have him for breakfast.

"I… I don’t remember," Castiel croaks out, "I don’t think I saw their face."

Marv frowns. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe you could help me to the hospital?" Castiel says weakly. Nothing feels broken, but everything hurts.

Marv gets an unsure look on his face. "Well… if you aren’t going to report who did this to you, a trip to the hospital will just raise a lot of questions. I’d hate to get in trouble for leaving you alone in here," Marv says slowly. From concerned educator to trying to cover his own hide in a matter of seconds. Castiel has never liked Marv. He does, however, have a point.

"Jesus fuck, Cas. Don’t listen to him, go to the fucking hospital!" Dean snaps. Castiel looks at Dean and shakes his head. Dean throws his hands up in agitation.

"I think I’d just like to call my brother for a ride home," Castiel says.

"Are you sure? I can give you a ride home." Marv doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling Castiel to his feet. Castiel wants this kept private, but he’d almost rather make a big stink about it so Marv would get in trouble. What an unsavory man.

"No, I’d rather call my brother," Castiel says bluntly. Castiel knows that this incident isn’t entirely Marv’s fault, but he certainly wouldn’t have been assaulted in the library if Marv had been where he was supposed to be. Castiel has no interest in easing the man’s guilt by accepting a ride home from him.

"If you’re sure," Marv says slowly. "Let’s get you to the restroom so you can clean up, then you can call your ride."

Dean looks relieved when Castiel manages to stand on his own. Marv grabs Castiel’s backpack, while Castiel fetches his coat. Once Marv is out the door, Castiel turns to wave goodbye at Dean, but Dean is gone. Castiel frowns, wondering if this is an involuntary stress response again, or if Dean is upset that Castiel won’t go to the hospital and left on purpose.

"If you’re here, Dean," Castiel says, "please don’t worry. I’ll be okay."

 

***

 

Marv walks Castiel to the nearest restroom, chattering nervously the entire way. It makes Castiel long for unconsciousness the way he keeps yammering about how he’d "just stepped out for a moment", and how he’d hate to lose his job because of an unknown assailant that he had nothing to do with. Castiel just hums and nods, he’s not going to reassure Marv about his job security.

While Marv waits in the hall, Castiel washes the blood off his face and glares at the state of his costume in the mirror. There’s a button missing from his shirt and the smudge of a footprint that Castiel unsuccessfully tries to wipe away with a wet paper towel. He feels awful, and can’t wait to go home and get his family’s first aid kit. When Castiel comes out of the restroom, Marv holds out his cell phone for him to use. Castiel snatches the phone and walks several paces down the hall, marveling at his own rudeness as he dials Gabriel’s cellphone number.

"Go for G-Man!" Gabriel bellows into the phone by way of greeting. Castiel can hear laughter and music in the background.

"Gabriel," Castiel says.

"Cas?"

"Gabriel, are you at home?"

"No? Aren’t _you_ at home?"

"I’m at school. I need a ride home, Gabriel," Castiel says. God, he just wants to sleep.

"Can’t you ride your bike? Or, I don’t know… _walk_?"

Castiel frowns. Walking or biking home is definitely beyond his ability right now. "I had a bit of an accident with my bike, I think it would hurt a lot to try getting home on my own."

Gabriel is silent for a moment. "You sound… weird. Are you okay?"

"I just really need a ride. Please."

"Fuck, Cas, I’ve had like… five beers. Fuck. Hold on, I _know_ I saw someone drinking soda here," Gabriel’s voice gets slightly muffled, Castiel assumes he’s no longer holding the phone near his face. "Hey! You! You had any alcohol tonight? Okay… okay yes, it’s probably easier to keep an eye on your house if you’re not wasted. Yes okay that’s great. Do you know how to drive? My car. It’s an automatic. What’s _in it for you?_ Uh…" Castiel hears some rustling now. "Eight...no nineteen dollars, and half a family size bag of Skittles. What? You’re seriously going to take the Skittles… fine… _fine._ " Gabriel’s voice comes back on the line, clearer. "Give me like twenty minutes, bro. I’m on my way."

 

***

 

Castiel waits for Gabriel in front of the school, dozing against the bike rack while Marv watches him from his parked car. He’d have yelled at Marv to just leave, but he doesn’t really want to be waiting out here alone.

It’s probably half an hour later when Castiel stirs awake at the sound of approaching footsteps. He panics for a fraction of a second before he realizes it’s just his brother.

Gabriel eyes Castiel’s bike, glaring slightly. "It doesn’t _look_ like you crashed the thing. Are you just being lazy? I don’t think it’s going to fit in the car you know, we’ll have to leave it here."

Castiel is about to answer as he stands, but his brother's eyes widen as he gets a better look at Castiel’s state. He knows what Gabriel sees. Bruises on his face, hair a mess, maybe a few stray flecks of blood on his formerly crisp white shirt.

"What the hell happened?!" Gabriel bellows.

"I don’t want to discuss it. I just want to go home, Gabriel. It was just an embarrassing accident with my bike."

"So you crashed your bike… bad enough for you to look like that, and yet the bike is in pristine condition?!" Gabriel hisses.

"I just want to go home and go to sleep, Gabriel," Castiel says, exhausted. Gabriel frowns before grabbing Castiel’s backpack and marching over to the parking lot, wobbly from his five beers.

"You know, you’re lucky there was someone at the party _not_ drunk off their ass. We got started _early._ I had to pay him in cash _and_ Skittles to get him to drive me here," Gabriel complains as they head for the car. He sounds particularly mournful at the mention of his Skittles. Castiel is startled when he approaches Gabriel’s car; it’s Balthazar sitting in the driver’s seat, dressed in some sort of medieval royal garb.

Balthazar levels Castiel with a glare. "Your brother is absolutely charming, Cassie."

Castiel turns to his brother. "You were at a _high school_ party, Gabriel?"

"Excuse you," Balthazar grouses. "It was a party thrown by a high schooler, with several high schoolers in attendance, but it was _not_ a high school party. There are plenty of older people absolutely destroying my home as we speak." Gabriel and Castiel climb into the backseat of the car, Gabriel glancing between Castiel and Balthazar.

"So you two know each other?" Gabriel asks. Balthazar sighs and starts the car.

"Balthazar has been over to our house at least three times, Gabriel. I’m fairly certain two of those times had you making fun of his accent," Castiel chides.

Gabriel claps his hands together and points at Balthazar. "The kid with the v-neck!"

"I’d decided to abstain from drinking so I could keep a better eye on my party, and you lot have me seriously regretting that choice," Balthazar says, pulling out of the parking lot.

"I drive a lot of people to drink. We’ll get you good and drunk when we get back," Gabriel says cheerfully.

Balthazar turns long enough to glare at Gabriel. " _We_ are not going back, _I_ am dropping you off at your home and will be sending your car keys home with Cassie after school so that you have walk to my house to pick up your vehicle."

"There has to be an easier way to do that," Gabriel starts, but Balthazar interrupts him.

"I’ll also be eating your Skittles once I’m back home, thank you very much."

Castiel smiles. It’s good to see a couple of friendly faces after what he’s just endured. That feeling of gratitude lasts up until Balthazar pulls up outside the Shurley home and asks for a moment to speak with Castiel. Gabriel nods and makes a not-so-graceful exit from the car, Castiel’s bag in tow. Silence fills the car.

Neither boy speaks for a full minute before Balthazar finally cracks. "Well?!"

"Well what?"

"What in the bloody hell happened to you?!"

"I crashed my bike."

"Where?"

"At the school."

Balthazar turns to look at Castiel, eyebrows raised. "Is that so?"

Castiel is too tired for this. "Balthazar, please drop it."

"Drop what?" Balthazar demands. "Tell me _what_ I’m dropping." Castiel huffs and gets out of the car, growling in frustration when Balthazar follows.

"Can you not sense that I don’t want to talk about this?"

"Yes, well I wanted to enjoy my Halloween gathering in relative peace, and _not_ have your irritating brother drop by to soak up all the booze and attention. The idiot is what, twenty-five? What was he doing at a high school party?"

Castiel tilts his head, eyebrow raised. "I thought it wasn’t a high sch-"

"Whose side are you on?!"

"I have no idea why Gabriel wasn’t spending time with people his own age, I-"

"Then he _demands_ I chauffer him to the damn school for nineteen dollars and some candy. God _knows_ what’s happening to my house right now."

"I didn’t even know he was at your house, I’m sor-"

"And now you won’t tell me why your costume now has blood on it, or why you’re moving around very much like someone has been using you as a punching bag. You were intact not six hours ago! What the hell happened after I left?" Balthazar stares at Castiel, waiting for a response. Castiel wonders if he’ll be allowed to finish a sentence this time.

"I’m fine, I’m okay, it was nothing."

"You’re fine," Balthazar repeats. He curses and drags Castiel under the porch light. Before Castiel can even react, Balthazar is pulling up Castiel’s shirt, lifting it to get a look at the mess of bruises and scrapes on his torso. "Yes, that certainly looks like nothing. You forget that I went to a boarding school full of tense, repressed boys for most of my life. I’m very familiar with what bruises left from punches and kicks look like, Cassie," Balthazar says, gently smoothing Castiel’s shirt back down.

Castiel frowns. "I don’t think that’s actually something you’ve mentioned before."

"Yes, well. We’re not talking about me," Balthazar says. He gently cups Castiel’s face in his hands, and Castiel is considerably startled. "I want you to tell me who did this to you, Cassie. Was it a student? A teacher? A janitor? A bloody drifter just passing through the school parking lot?!"

"I can’t, he…" Castiel stops talking.

"He…?" Balthazar’s thumbs wipe away tears Castiel hadn’t realized he was shedding. He’s so very exhausted. "This man, did he…"

Castiel lets out a shaky breath. "He was going to. He didn’t, but he was going to."

"Oh Cassie," Balthazar whispers sadly.

Castiel abruptly shakes himself free of Balthazar’s hold, looking away. "I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about this. I appreciate everything, I do, but I just want to go to sleep. Please, Balthazar."

Balthazar sighs. He pets a hand through Castiel’s hair, then takes a step back. "Alright. I suppose I’d better go check on what’s left of my home and decide if I want to end the festivities at a reasonable hour. It’s cruel to have classes scheduled the day after Halloween if you ask me."

"I agree," Castiel says. "Thank you, Balthazar." Balthazar gasps quietly when Castiel leans forward to embrace him briefly. Castiel can understand his surprise; he’s not one to give out hugs.

Castiel steps inside as Balthazar heads back to Gabriel’s car. Gabriel is leaning against the front window, and Castiel realizes in horror that he was probably watching the whole time.

"When I was twenty-two," Gabriel begins, "I had this apprenticeship at a restaurant in Greece, and the kitchen staff wanted to haze me. They told me they needed me to pick up a shipment of lamb at the ’central warehouse’ and gave me an address to go pick it up. It took me over an hour to find the place, I spoke maybe fifty words of Greek at the time, and most of those words pertained to cooking. I walked up to a few people, muttering ‘help’ and ‘find’ while pointing to the address my co-workers had given me, then I’d head in the direction they pointed, hoping it was the right way. People kept giving me weird looks, one girl could barely stop giggling, but I figured it was just people laughing at my poor language skills. Finally I found a building with the right address. There was a man outside waiting. He smiled when he saw me, and said in English that he was told to expect me. He opened the front door, and said ‘meat is through purple door inside,’ so in I went." Gabriel’s Greek accent is atrocious. "After a few minutes I found the purple door and strolled right in. There were seven incredibly buff, incredibly oily men, in various stages of fucking in and around this big heart shaped jacuzzi in the center of the room. The chefs had sent me to some sort of combination of a gay bathhouse and a brothel, and the guys were in a full on seven-way orgy." Gabriel finishes his story, and looks at Castiel expectantly.

A full minute passes before Castiel finally speaks. "What in God’s name was the point of that story?!"

Gabriel smirks. "Your little moment on the porch with Balthazar was still the gayest thing I’ve ever seen."

Castiel gives Gabriel a sour look before grabbing his backpack off the floor and marching upstairs to the bathroom.

Before he goes to sleep, Castiel is still sure to set the newest episode of Doctor Sexy, MD to download.

 


	7. Sore

Castiel gets over twelve hours of not-so-restful sleep before he has to drag himself awake and into some fresh clothes so he can go to school. He pops one of the over-the-counter the painkillers he found in the medicine cabinet, wishing he had something stronger. He woke up early so he could ride his bike a bit slower, so he’s still got plenty of time to get to school, except. _Damn_. His bike is still at the school, and Gabriel won’t be able to give him a ride with no car. Castiel hangs his head in defeat before leaving to make the long walk to school.

 

***

 

Even with the head start and the painkillers easing the way, Castiel is incredibly late, and incredibly sore by the time he arrives. He missed his AP European History class entirely, and has to head into the classroom just as other students are filing out.

His teacher, Crowley, gives him an unimpressed look as he approaches his desk. "Another kid hung over from last night’s party. I’m surprised, Castiel." There’s something about Crowley’s accent that makes everything he says sound twice as disdainful.

"I assure you, my absence was not caused by a night of illegal drinking with my peers," Castiel says blandly.

Crowley gives an almost friendly smile, then taps the whiteboard where the assignment for the weekend is written. "For some reason I’m inclined to believe you, even though I must say you look absolutely dreadful. Well. Hurry on to your next class, Castiel."

Castiel quickly copies down the assignment and runs off to Biology, plopping down in his seat just as the bell rings. Several students are absent, including Balthazar. Castiel’s injuries ache, and he regrets running down the hall, especially seeing how many of his classmates didn’t even bother to show. Some of the students that _did_ show up look a little worse for wear. It must have been quite a party. Castiel has trouble focusing during his class. The painkillers don’t seem to be doing anything, he’s tired, and he forgot to eat something before he left this morning. Most of what his teacher says goes in one ear and out the other, but he does manage to take a few useful notes.

 

***

 

At lunch, Rachel and Hester are the only ones in Castiel’s social circle that have shown up. Hester didn’t go to Balthazar’s party at all, and Rachel _did_ go, but came to school anyway.

"Your brother is… interesting," Rachel says.

Castiel tries to shake the cobwebs in his head loose. "My brother?"

"Yes, he came to the party last night. He was like the oldest guy there. He really knows how to work a crowd though, nearly everyone wanted to hang out with him."

"Of course," Castiel sighs.

"I met him that time I went to Castiel’s house," Hester says. "I found him annoying… _but_ I stayed for dinner and he made an absolutely _divine_ shrimp risotto." Castiel raises an eyebrow as Hester sighs dreamily.

She looks down at her cafeteria-issued lunch in sudden distaste. "It was incredible. I would go streaking through the next school assembly for another serving of that."

"I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments, Hester," Castiel says with a small smile.

"Please don’t, his ego is big enough as it is," Hester groans.

"He did seem rather fond of himself," Rachel says, "I didn’t get to try his cooking though. Just as he was talking about making a strawberry apple pie that would have us weeping, he got a phone call and dragged Bal off somewhere."

Hester looks up from her macaroni and cheese. "Sounds suspicious." Rachel and Hester turn to Castiel, obviously hoping for an explanation. Castiel has no intention of sharing what happened last night.

"I don’t know. When I asked for a ride to school this morning, he told me that Balthazar had his car. I’m sure it was nothing interesting, Gabriel’s not nearly as exciting as he likes to think he is," Castiel says.

Rachel hums in agreement. "So, are you going to tell us why you have bruises on your face?"

Castiel looks up in surprise, wondering why he’d assumed they hadn’t noticed. "I fell off my bicycle last night."

"I bet it was that ridiculous coat you were wearing yesterday," Hester says, shaking her head.

Rachel flicks a piece of macaroni at Hester’s shirt. "Aw, I don’t think it was ridiculous. It was definitely not a good coat for bike riding though, did it get tangled up and cause you to fall?"

"Yes. I won’t be attempting to wear that coat while riding my bicycle again, that’s for certain."

"That sounds really embarrassing," Rachel says earnestly, "I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay, no one was around to see it happen." Castiel feels like an asshole for lying, but he can’t tell them the truth. They’ll just worry, or tell him he needs to call the police, or get mixed up with Alastair themselves. He’s hanging on to the vain hope that after the way Alastair flipped out last night, he’ll be avoiding Castiel anyway.

In fact, Castiel doesn’t see as much as a glimpse of Alastair all day. Or, for that matter, Dean.

 

***

 

After school, Castiel has a painful bike ride home, only remembering that he brought an extra painkiller once he’s stowed his bike in the garage. Nobody is around, so he works on his homework for a while and microwaves a frozen meal for dinner. He’s tired, but considering heading back to the school with his laptop and seeing if he can find Dean. He’s still mulling it over in his head when he realizes he never got Gabriel’s car keys back from Balthazar. He wonders how Gabriel got to work, the restaurant isn’t really in walking distance, and Gabriel probably doesn’t have money for a cab if he gave all his cash to Balthazar last night. He grabs the cordless phone downstairs and calls Balthazar.

"You’ve reached the Talbot Homestead," a very bored, very European voice says. "Unfortunately, the Talbots are not available right now, so please leave your name and number at the beep. Beep."

"Aren’t you clever," Castiel says, rolling his eyes.

"Remind me to give you my cellphone number, so I don’t have to use my house phone for social calls like some sort of old person," Balthazar says.

" _I’m_ using a house phone," Castiel says, glaring at the receiver.

"Remind me to give you a cellphone," Balthazar adds.

"I’ll pass. I’m calling about my brother’s car keys. You weren’t in school today."

"No worries, Cassie. I brought your brother’s car around hours ago."

"Alright. Thank you, Balthazar."

"That was it?" Balthazar sounds offended.

"Yes...?"

"You don’t want to know if my house survived my party? Or if I’m hungover and in need of nursing? You don’t want to thank me for not sending a mass e-mail about your scandalous late night activities? You don’t want to know if I need the homework from one of our classes? _Honestly,_ Cassie," Balthazar chides.

Castiel gathers that his phone etiquette could use some work. "I apologize. How are you and your house faring after your party?"

By the way Balthazar is gathering his breath, Castiel can tell he’s about to get an earful. "Why thank you for asking! As it happens, my beast of a sister called the house phone while I was out, and some drunken idiot _answered_ it instead of letting it go to message. So she found out about the party, and of course she told our parents, who caught the next flight home from bloody New York, and arrived home at eleven o’clock this morning to find the house a total wreck, and a bunch of people passed out on the living room floor."

"Wow, that’s-"

"No wait, that’s not the worst part. I brilliantly decided to get plastered when I got home, and once I passed out drunk on the couch, Dick Roman and Gordon Walker took off nearly all my clothes, and drew a bunch of dicks all over me. _Dicks,_ Cassie. In permanent marker. They also wrote a bunch of swear words on my body. _That_ is how my father found me."

"Oh my g-"

"My mother however, had bypassed the mess in the living room and kitchen, gone straight to her bedroom to ‘collect herself’, and found Gordon and Meg Masters _fucking on my parents’ bed._ Who in the hell has sex on a stranger’s bed in the middle of the damn day? I thought my mother was _never_ going to stop screaming. I am grounded until bloody _April,_ I owe my parents two hundred dollars for a new comforter and to replace a bunch of broken shit, and I couldn’t wash the marker all the way off, so when my father followed me to your home in his car so I could drop off your brother’s car, I had faded dick drawings all over me. My father _ordered_ me to go without covering up my arms or face, because he decided the embarrassment should be part of my punishment. Your brother would not stop laughing, and before I knew what was happening, he’d taken a photo with his bloody phone."

Castiel waits to make sure Balthazar is actually done talking before speaking. "I’m sorry Balthazar, can you hold on a moment? I believe I hear someone at the door." Castiel waits for Balthazar’s growled acquiescence, and presses the mute button on the phone. Then he laughs, violently and with debilitating force, for over a minute before he manages to calm himself down and unmute the phone. "My apologies. I’m back."

Balthazar’s tone is ice cold. "I could hear you laughing, you know." Castiel bursts into another fit of laughter, laughing even harder once Balthazar barks out a few choice curses and hangs up on him. Castiel’s abdomen hurts after the hysterical laughter, but he decides it’s worth it.

 

***

 

It’s about nine o’clock when Castiel arrives at the school. He locks up his bike and sits by the rack for a moment to rest. His body still hurts, and the bike rides today have been no picnic. He’s hoping Dean will show up, because he doesn’t really have the energy to wander around the school looking for him and then ride all the way back home. After twenty minutes, he’s bored and cold, but he isn’t quite ready to leave.

There’s a voice behind him. "How are you feeling?"

Castiel yelps as he jumps to his feet, turning to face Dean. Dean looks one part apologetic, and two parts amused by Castiel’s reaction.

"I’m startled," Castiel says sheepishly, sitting back down. Dean has a seat next to him. "Startled, and sore."

"That was pretty fucked up, yesterday."

Castiel frowns. "Actually, I don’t really want to talk about it. I brought you something, in a manner of speaking."

"Are you sure you don’t-"

"I’m sure," Castiel interrupts. Dean frowns, then grins when Castiel pulls his laptop out. "I have three episodes saved up to watch."

"Three? Woah, time flies."

Castiel pauses as he’s about to open the first file.

"Cas?" Dean asks.

"Where do you go?"

"Where do I go?"

"When you’re not here, with me. Where do you go?"

"Oh… around the school. I mean that’s as far as I _can_ go. During school days I watch Sam a lot. I miss him. I saw his costume yesterday, that was pretty awesome. He doesn’t even _watch_ Dr. Sexy, I’m in a coma, and yet he wore that getup anyway. I heard him tell one of his friends he was going to the hospital to see me after school, but it’s not like I could tell him I’d hear him better here."

Castiel is surprised at that. "You hear him? When he visits?"

"A little. I hear random things all the time. Machines beeping, nurses talking. Sometimes I hear Sam telling me about his day. Just bits and pieces, and not all the time. I already know about a lot of Sam’s day seeing as I’m his ghostly stalker, but it’s still nice. I can kind of sense him, too. When he’s in the room sometimes I can just sort of feel him before he speaks. My parents never come by, though. Not because they don’t love me or anything, obviously. Sammy told me...well he told my _body_ … they just get too sad, it’s too much for them, seeing me like that. I think it’s too much for Sam too, but he comes anyway. Kids are resilient like that, I guess. Anyway, it’s all kind of hard to explain and it doesn’t happen all the time, which is probably a good thing. Being in two places at once constantly might drive me insane."

Dean pauses, frowning.

"Then there are other times, when I’m just… not."

"Not?" Castiel repeats, confused.

"Yeah, like… I don’t know… a ghost nap? When I just don’t exist for a while. It happens more at night when there’s no one to watch and I’m all bored. I just sort of slip away."

Castiel shudders. "That sounds scary."

"Nah. Disorienting at first though, because I’ll have to figure out how much time I lost, what day it is or what time it is when I come back. Which is a lot easier now than it was during the summer when no one was around. I guess it _is_ scary. I worry sometimes. I worry that the next time I slip it’ll be for good, or that I’ll come back and years will have passed. But it’s not like monster-scary. This is depressing."

Castiel nods. "I agree, this is very upsetting. Perhaps we should see a doctor."

Dean’s smile at that is abrupt and dazzling.

 

***

 

By the end of the third episode, it’s after midnight, Dr. Piccolo has ended her engagement to Dr. Sexy’s rival, and Dr. Sexy has discovered a shocking secret on the chief of surgery’s computer, a secret that is not shown to the audience. Castiel is embarrassed to realize he’s anxious to see what happens next.

"I heard that," Dean says.

"Heard what?"

Dean is smirking now. "You made a little disappointed ‘aw’ sound when the episode ended."

"I’m sure you’re mistaken."

"You little _liar._ You’re hooked."

Castiel glares. "I am not!"

"Come on, admit it. Who am I going to tell?"

"Very well," Castiel concedes, "perhaps I am developing a very small interest in the plot. I think your enthusiasm is just contagious."

"I knew it!" Dean hoots.

"You must be very proud."

"It’s good to have guilty pleasures, man. Embrace it. I get the feeling you’re not a guilty pleasure kind of guy, though. I bet you spend all night doing homework. You need to just kick back and sit with a pizza or some ice cream, and watch action movies in your underwear."

That sounds a bit ridiculous to Castiel. "Does it have to be in my underwear?"

"It’s part of relaxing, yeah."

"I feel like I could probably relax and eat and watch action movies without needing to be in my underwear."

"You should try it at least once, man. Just pop in something action-heavy and fun. Oh and food that’s bad for you, not like a fucking platter of carrot sticks and celery or whatever shit you probably eat for a snack. And the underwear thing is key. That’s you not caring and just enjoying something, and kicking back. But like… lock your door. I traumatized Sam that way," Dean says, grinning wide.

"Seeing you in your underwear traumatized your brother?"

"Well, I was naked. He burst into the room because he smelled the pizza I ordered and got an eyeful."

Dean’s habits sound bizarre. "You were watching pornography and eating pizza?"

Dean looks at Castiel, startled. "Who said anything about porn? I was watching Die Hard!"

"Naked."

"I was _relaxing,_ Cas."

Castiel is amazed that Dean’s tone implies that he thinks _Castiel_ is strange for not sitting around naked while eating hot food and watching old action films. "It just seems odd," Castiel says.

"Yeah well, _you_ seem odd. Being naked is awesome. I miss being naked. I’m a ghost, I can’t actually take these clothes off or anything, because they’re not really there. For a while I tried _thinking_ myself into a new outfit, but that didn’t do shit. I’d love to just kick back and be naked. You’re a beginner at this, though, so you should just strip down to your tighty-whiteys."

Castiel stares at Dean. He can’t help but wonder what Dean looks like naked. Probably miles of toned, golden skin, maybe scattered freckles, and what is Castiel _doing_? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and instead shoots Dean a glare.

"I do not wear tighty-whiteys. I will try to… _relax_ over the weekend. After I complete my homework."

"You’d better. Let go a little, Cas. You should go to Balthazar’s next party. I heard people talking about it today, sounds like it was a blast."

"I guess you didn’t hear from any of the people that were there when his parents got home," Castiel says with a small smile.

Dean looks excited at that. "Ooh, what happened?"

"They came home to find the house destroyed after his sister ratted him out."

"Ah, Bela," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "Hot, but what a bitch."

"Yes I believe that is often the word Balthazar uses to describe her."

"We dated for like...a minute but she was definitely too _posh_ for me. I never understood why she had a damn British accent when the rest of the family sounds French, like did she fake that or something to seem more sophisticated?! Anyway, she hated that I was a ‘grease monkey’ and whatnot, and had no problems telling me."

"Why did she date you, then?"

"It’s just what girls did. I was like a rite of passage, dating me was part of the Lawrence High Experience," Dean says bitterly.

"I take it you’re quoting someone."

"This girl Ruby, I think she hated me more than Bela did. She said that to me during a fight when I asked what she was even doing dating me if I was so awful. It definitely stuck with me. It didn’t quite hurt my _feelings,_ but it stuck with me, and I think that’s one of the reasons I took that break up with Lisa so hard and was willing to mess around with the King of the Creeps."

"I’m sorry, Dean."

"Hey, it’s not like I’m blameless," Dean says with a shrug. "I was shit at commitment for so long that it just became expected of me." Dean sighs. "So, Bela ratted out her little brother, his parents came home, then what?"

Castiel smiles. "They found the house trashed, Balthazar passed out and covered in phallic art done in permanent marker, and Meg Masters having intercourse with Gordon Walker in their bed. Balthazar is very, very grounded. He told me he had to return my brother’s car while still covered in drawings of penises. I look forward to seeing the photo Gabriel took with his phone."

Dean’s laughter is beautiful and strong. Castiel is confused that Dean has to gasp for air to continue laughing, but chalks it up to another peculiarity of his condition.

"Please promise me you’ll show me that photo, Cas."

"I think that can be arranged."

"So, why did Balthazar have your brother’s car? Are they friends?"

"No, nothing like that. When I called Gabriel for a ride home, he was at Balthazar’s party, and too inebriated to drive. Balthazar was the first person he found that wasn’t drunk, and he drove Gabriel in the car to pick me up. I was very surprised and uncomfortable to see him, honestly. I hadn’t exactly been planning on sharing what had happened to me. He was very adamant that I tell him who had hurt me, it was difficult to make him drop it."

Dean’s expression is immediately very serious. "How are your… injuries?"

"I’m stiff, and sore, and riding my bike is not pleasant, but this isn’t exactly my first time getting beat up."

"That’s not comforting," Dean mumbles.

"I just mean that I know that my cuts and bruises will heal. I just have to be patient."

"That what you told Balthazar?"

"Not really, I just let him know that I didn’t want to talk about it, that I wanted to sleep. We hugged, he left, Gabriel told me how ‘gay’ we were, I went to sleep."

"Wow, _hugging,_ is gay? Is your brother one of those repressed guys that sees gay in everything?"

"He was watching our entire conversation on the porch from inside the house. I assume he saw Balthazar pulling up my shirt or cupping my face, and decided to poke fun."

"WHAT?!"

Castiel furrows his eyebrows. "I feel like that came out wrong." He glances at Dean and is surprised to see Dean’s form flickering slightly. "Dean?"

"Was he trying to… did he…"

Oh. "I assure you, nothing untoward occurred on my porch. I think it just sounds that way because of my abbreviated account of the evening. He was not making any sort of advances on me, that would have been inappropriate."

Dean relaxes. "Well it _does_ sound untoward. Face cupping, pawing at your clothes. I don’t know, is Balthazar even gay?"

"I think Balthazar is bisexual," Castiel says.

"What about you? Which way do you swing?"

"Well… I... that's not really important."

"Oh come on."

"I’ve never really dated anyone."

"Have you ever _kissed_ anyone?"

"I um… I’ve not really had occasion."

Dean makes some sort of pitying noise. "You’re missing out, dude. I find it hard to believe no one’s ever wanted to kiss you before, you’re… well you’re not ugly."

"Thank you. I think. It’s not that I’ve not been approached before, but the idea of dating has always seemed too daunting, and I would rather just do my homework, or read, or… I don’t know. No one has ever quite caught my interest enough for me to bother trying. I can’t believe I’m telling someone this."

"Hey, your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you, I suppose."

"So, who approached you?"

"Oh, uh… since I’ve been in Lawrence, Rachel once, Hester once, after study sessions over the summer."

"Really?" Dean sounds surprised. "I never saw that."

Castiel blinks slowly, turning to look at Dean fully. "Did you watch us often?"

Dean looks a little embarrassed. "Uh… hey, like I said before, there weren’t a lot of people here over the summer."

"Do you still watch us?"

"Sometimes… I mean I spend a lot more time haunting my little brother. He has a girlfriend now, I saw him talking to her today. She’s this goth chick named Lenore, super into vampires. Not like Sammy at all, but she seems smart and he smiles a lot when they talk. It’s really nice to see."

"I’m glad he’s doing well."

"Me too. From what I’ve gathered, he mostly kept to himself all summer, but now that he’s in school, he’s socializing, getting good grades. I’ve always been so proud of him. I hope if… if this becomes permanent, if I die for real, I hope he can keep moving forward. I want him to follow his dorky law school dreams, and I want him to have friends and to have fun. I’ve heard him talk about how he has hope that I’ll wake up, and how that keeps him going. I’m scared he’ll just… stop if he doesn’t have that hope."

Castiel is so out of his depth. "I think… I think if he found a way to keep going with you in a coma, I think he could find a way to keep going if you died."

Dean sighs. "Thanks, Cas. Look, it’s late as fuck, and you’re supposed to be recuperating, and I’ve got that weird fuzzy ghost nap feeling."

"I _am_ fairly tired," Castiel says, even though he feels disappointed that their time is coming to a close.

"Thanks for bringing me some entertainment, Cas, you seriously rock. I hope you’ll take my advice."

"Uh which…"

Dean throws his hands up in exasperation, but he’s smiling. "The underwear thing, Cas! Go relax!"

Castiel smiles and turns to put his laptop in his bag. When he looks up, Dean is gone. "Goodnight, Dean."

The ride home is slow and painful, but Castiel feels content nonetheless. He resolves to give the "underwear thing" a shot over the weekend. For Dean.


	8. Relaxation For Beginners

On Saturday, Castiel mostly sleeps and works on his homework. At one point he gets Gabriel to e-mail him the photo of Balthazar. It’s a little blurry but absolutely hilarious, and Castiel looks forward to showing it to Dean.

On Sunday, Castiel’s parents call to say they’ll be back on Monday night. He doesn’t even know where they are right now. They’re always at some writing workshop, or chasing inspiration, or doing a signing for some small group of fans that have actually read their books. Once Castiel got old enough to be left home alone, they started taking lots of road trips. Flights would be faster, but his father claims it’s cheaper, and that you can’t go where the road wills if you’re several miles above the road. Not for the first time, Castiel considers having them fill out some sort of calendar for him to keep track.

Gabriel is sleeping, and will be until the evening when he goes to the restaurant. Castiel has finished with his homework, and it’s only noon. He paces his room for a while before pushing his bedroom door closed and locking it. He takes off all his clothes save his boxers, and sits on his bed. He feels foolish. After a handful of minutes pass, he gets dressed again and goes downstairs, grabbing a few dollars from the money his parents leave out for groceries when they’re gone. He bikes to a convenience store several blocks away and buys a quart of neapolitan ice cream, then heads back home. It still hurts to ride anywhere, but it’s faster than walking.

When he gets home, Castiel browses his brother’s dvd collection in the living room. He spots Die Hard on the shelf and smiles, grabbing the movie. He takes the dvd, his ice cream, and a large spoon up to his room, then closes the door and strips down to his boxers again. He stares at the bruises on his torso a moment, poking one of the darker ones for no reason. The bruises seem to be getting a bit uglier by the day, but Castiel knows at some point that will stop and they’ll start to look better.

He sets his laptop on his bed and opens his ice cream. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually had ice cream, it might have been over a year ago. He puts the dvd into his laptop’s disc drive, and while it loads, he eats a spoonful from each color of the ice cream, moaning in delight at the taste of the strawberry portion. How did he forget how much he loves strawberry ice cream? He lets himself melt against the wall behind his bed, eating small spoonfuls as he watches the movie. He’s never seen it before. It’s not particularly _good_ compared to other films he’s seen, but he finds himself enjoying it anyway. He hasn’t seen many action movies. He smiles as Alan Rickman’s character discovers the dead henchman in the elevator, scooping out more strawberry ice cream and letting it melt slowly over his tongue as he lets out another happy moan. That’s when he hears a choked off gasp. Castiel looks immediately to his now open door, eyes widening when he sees Balthazar standing there, jaw hanging open. Clearly Castiel forgot to lock his bedroom door when he got home.

"Balthazar," Castiel says, wondering how ridiculous he’d look if he snatched his blanket and held it over his body. Balthazar’s eyes snap to his, looking slightly guilty.

"This is not at _all_ how I would have expected to find you," Balthazar says slowly. Castiel taps the spacebar to pause his movie, and sets the container of ice cream on his nightstand. Balthazar sets his coat and bag down and sits in the chair in front of Castiel’s desk.

"Yes well, I’m trying something," Castiel says.

"What, eating ice cream in your sous-vêtements all covered in bruises?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To relax."

"Well," Balthazar says, "it’s not quite how I would relax, but you _do_ need to unwind. Is it working?"

Castiel narrows his eyes. "It _was_ working. How did you get in here?"

"Ah, yes, well my father dropped me off, and your front door was unlocked, so I let myself in."

"It’s touching that you have gotten to a point where you feel so comfortable with me that you’re okay with walking into my home uninvited. Is this a European thing? I thought you were grounded," Castiel knows he’s being a little rude, but he’s never had a friend just let themselves in before, and he’s in his _boxers._

"Well, I came here about that very important Biology project that I had promised we would finish today."

Castiel tilts his head. "We don’t _have_ a Biology project."

"Yes, well it’s a shame my parents didn’t know that. Look, I wanted to get away from their disapproving glares for a few hours, and yours was the first name I blurted out."

"Why me?"

"I thought your name would conjure images of wholesome students doing their homework on a quiet Sunday afternoon so they’d let me go. I hardly expected to find you like _this._ "

Castiel feels embarrassed all over again. "Well this is a new thing for me."

"I see," Balthazar says, getting to his feet. "Well, shove over then." Balthazar kicks off his shoes and shoves Castiel to the side so he can sit on the bed. Castiel feels awkward, but Balthazar is acting like this is perfectly normal. He passes Castiel his ice cream and presses the spacebar to play the movie. "Ooh, a classic. Lovely choice."

"Quiet, Bal. I haven’t seen this before."

"You’re an odd bird, Cassie."

Castiel grunts and eats another spoonful of ice cream. They watch the movie in companionable silence, passing the ice cream and spoon back and forth.

"This is sort of disgusting," Balthazar says suddenly, "sharing the same spoon."

"Well," Castiel says, yanking the container away, "I"ll just keep this to myself then."

Balthazar pouts. "Hey, I said it was disgusting, not that I didn’t want to keep eating it!" Balthazar reaches for the ice cream, and in an uncharacteristic moment of playfulness, Castiel holds it away so he can’t reach. It doesn’t take long before they’re nearly wrestling, Castiel doing his best to keep the ice cream away from a surprised and indignant Balthazar. Castiel thinks that maybe this is what relaxing is like, right up until Balthazar has him pinned on his bed. Castiel’s heart thuds erratically in his chest. He thinks about being pinned under Alastair, and an errant feeling of fear lances through him before he calms himself down. Balthazar is not Alastair.

He’s about to move away when he thinks about his conversation with Dean, about how he’s never kissed anyone. He wonders if Balthazar wants to kiss him. He wonders if he would _let_ Balthazar kiss him. He can’t help but feel curious.

"I think maybe you’re a bit under dressed for this level of horseplay," Balthazar says quietly.

"Balthazar…"

"This is incredibly awkward, isn’t it?"

"This is very," Castiel searches for the right word, "contrary to our usual interactions."

"Should I move?"

"I don’t know. This is new."

Balthazar’s voice has gone low in a way Castiel’s never really heard from him before. "Have you hit your quota of new things for the day, then?"

"I’m not sure."

"You have to give me permission, Cassie, I won’t do something you don’t want."

"I _am_... curious," Castiel says carefully. Balthazar’s face is inching closer.

"Never kissed another boy before?" Balthazar asks, voice almost a whisper.

"No. I’ve never kissed anyone."

"No one?"

Castiel makes a decision. "I think I’d like to try, just once, if that’s okay with you."

Balthazar nods, lifting one hand to pet it through Castiel’s hair. He leans forward the rest of the way, setting more of his weight on Castiel’s body. Castiel’s eyes flutter closed as Balthazar presses their lips together in a very chaste kiss, then pulls away.

"Just, try to emulate me, here," Balthazar says, moving back in for another kiss. He moves their lips together slowly, and Castiel does his best to copy him. It seems easier than he thought it would be, and he’s a bit worried maybe he’s doing it wrong. It’s pleasant, but Castiel isn’t particularly impressed. Maybe he was expecting fireworks, or some other clichéd experience.

Balthazar lightly rolls their hips together, and when Castiel gasps at the sensation, plunges his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. _This_ certainly feels a bit more interesting, but something about it feels off. Still, Castiel finds himself gripping Balthazar’s shoulders and tilting his head, their kiss deepening as Balthazar rocks gently against Castiel. Deciding to take a more active role, Castiel runs a hand through Balthazar’s hair. He’s surprised at the softness, even though he’s never given much thought to Balthazar’s hair in general. He tries sucking on Balthazar’s tongue. Balthazar responds with a groan, pressing down with a bit more force. Castiel can feel himself hardening in his boxers, can feel that Balthazar is in the same condition. This feels good, it does, but Castiel still can’t help but feel like something is missing. He doesn’t know _what_ is missing, so he tries to shake the feeling and immerse himself in the experience. He aids in rolling their hips together, feeling a rush of adrenaline when Balthazar groans in response, kissing and moving harder.

"Really? On a Sunday? It’s _God’s_ day, and you’re engaging in premarital homosexual activities!" Gabriel’s voice is a cruel bucket of ice water over the proceedings, and Castiel glares in the direction of the door.

"Do you _mind_?" Castiel barks.

"I’m not the one that left the door open," Gabriel says cheerfully.

"Fuck everything," Balthazar says.

"Not while I’m in the house, big boy," Gabriel shoots back. Balthazar rolls off of Castiel, and Castiel feels incredibly exposed. He’s in his underwear, he has an erection, and there are two other people in the room.

Balthazar looks at Gabriel sheepishly. "This isn’t what it looks like?"

Gabriel quirks an eyebrow. "So you _weren’t_ attempting to deflower my injured baby brother?"

"What do you want, Gabriel?!" Castiel hisses.

"Hey _I’m_ not the bad guy," Gabriel says, "I’m just the guy that came out of his room to pee and made the mistake of investigating the strange noises he heard. I don’t even want to know what you were planning on doing with the ice cream."

Balthazar hits his forehead with his hand. "And I think that’s it for me. I’m going to go in the other room, call my father for a ride home, and die a slow and agonizing death brought on by mortification. Cassie, I’ll be right back." Balthazar grabs his phone from his coat pocket and shuffles out into the hallway.

Gabriel grabs a t-shirt from the top of Castiel’s laundry hamper and tosses it to him. Castiel pulls it on immediately. Gabriel stares at him, eyebrows still practically in his hairline. Castiel stares back.

"If it makes any difference, I was already in my underwear when Balthazar unexpectedly arrived," Castiel offers.

"No," Gabriel says, "that just makes me wonder why you were sitting around in your underwear when you _never_ sit around in your underwear."

"I was told by someone that it would be relaxing to eat junk food and watch action movies in my underwear."

Gabriel looks incredibly amused. "Was it relaxing?"

"For a while."

"And the making out with Frenchie?"

"Curiosity."

"You’re like an alien sometimes," Gabriel says, then yawns. "I’m going to go back to sleep for a while. If I have nightmares about this, you _will_ owe me."

Castiel sighs.

"And Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Keep it in your damn pants, you’re not even eighteen yet."

Castiel fights the urge to roll his eyes out the door and down the stairs. "Like _you_ waited until you were eighteen?"

"We’re not talking about me! Mom will skin me alive if she finds out I let the baby of the family get deflowered by some smarmy douche. Either that or she’ll grill you for details on your sex life for one of her books, and neither of those are good outcomes, Cas."

"Please," Castiel begs, "stop talking."

"Alright, but if you ignore my request, at least grab some condoms and lube from under my bed. It’s important to practice safe sex, and no one likes chafing. In fact you know what, I’m going to get you your own stash for your room next time I stop by the Porn Palace."

" _Gabriel,_ " Castiel is practically wailing, "I will _pay you_ to leave without another word."

Gabriel grins and exits the room, and Castiel hears him say "I’m watching you, Frenchie," to Balthazar in the hallway. Balthazar comes back into the room, looking profoundly embarrassed.

"Did he realize I could hear everything he was saying?" Balthazar asks, face tinted red.

"He doesn’t care," Castiel says forlornly. "Did you call your father?"

"Yes, he’ll be here momentarily," Balthazar says. He collects his things and walks over to the bed to kiss the top of Castiel’s head. "I will see you in class, Cassie."

"Balthazar? Did I do okay? With the kissing?" Castiel asks timidly.

"You’re a natural, Cassie," Balthazar says.

Castiel smiles, embarrassed. "Thank you. Um, you are too."

"Oh, I know," Balthazar says. "Tomorrow, then."

After Balthazar leaves, Castiel gets back to his sitting position against the wall. He doesn’t strip down to his underwear again, but he does go back to eating his ice cream and watching Die Hard.

 

***

 

When he goes to sleep, Castiel can’t help but think about his experience with Balthazar. He’d enjoyed the physical sensations, but that weird feeling that something wasn’t quite right is still with him. He can’t even begin to guess how he could go about asking Balthazar if he felt that way too, if that was normal. That might come out a bit insulting. There’s Gabriel, but Castiel would rather gouge out his own eyes than have any sort of sex talk with a family member, the one his mother gave him when he was younger was more than enough to traumatize him. He wonders if his experience with Balthazar would have been better without clothes. He doesn’t know if he’d be ready to go that far, probably not. He does miss the feeling of another body pressed against his in a non-threatening manner. He squirms in his bed, pushing a hand into his boxers.

Castiel doesn’t do this often. His mind is simply usually on other things. It’s not that he’s incapable, or totally disinterested, he just hasn’t had much need or occasion. He wonders if this is the sort of thing that will help him relax. His mind replays his experience with Balthazar, the softness of his lips, the feeling each time his body pressed up against Castiel’s erection. Every time he feels a rush of heat at the memory, he gives himself a small stroke.

He wonders if Balthazar is doing this in his own bed right now. The thought causes him to moan lightly, taking himself in a firmer grip. He wonders why he doesn’t do this more often, it feels _great._ He licks his lips, remembering the feel of Balthazar’s tongue in his mouth as he thumbs the wet tip of his erection. His strokes grow rougher, wetter, as he starts imagining how things might have gone if Gabriel hadn’t interrupted them. He wonders if they would have continued grinding together, panting into each other’s mouths until they found their release. He imagines Balthazar pulling his shirt off. Castiel’s never seen Balthazar shirtless, but he does wear v-neck shirts frequently and seems to have a nice chest. Castiel has probably checked him out a few times without even realizing it. He didn’t consider that while talking to Dean about his sexual preferences.

 _Dean_. As soon as his mind goes to Dean, Castiel feels his heart thump painfully. His grip on himself tightens and he whimpers, back arching. Castiel’s hand moves rapidly, his mind running through thoughts of Dean’s eyes, his smile. He suddenly wishes Dean had been his first kiss, wondering if that’s what was missing with Balthazar. Castiel replays the encounter with Balthazar in his head, this time imagining Dean in his place. He can’t help but gasp at the rush of heat that goes through him. He doesn’t have to hold in his sounds, his parents are gone and Gabriel is at work.

Castiel’s own moans and the wet sounds of his precome-slicked fist serve to turn him on even more. His past experiences were definitely not this intense. He feels almost light-headed the closer he gets to an orgasm. He wishes Dean were there right now to touch him. He wonders if Dean would be gentle, or if he would be rough with him. He wonders if Dean would be a talker in bed. Dean is chatty and charismatic, Castiel thinks that might carry over into the bedroom. Castiel wonders what Dean would say, what filthy words he’d growl in Castiel’s ear. He thinks about the way Dean says his name, imagines how it might sound surrounded by small gasps and sharp intakes of breath. Castiel whines at the thought, arching up off his mattress as he comes hard over his fist. He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths.

 _Well,_ he thinks, _that was new._

Castiel wonders how long he’s had feelings for Dean.


	9. Cold Snap

There is an odd energy when Castiel sees Balthazar in Biology class. Castiel realizes he doesn’t really know the appropriate etiquette for dealing with a previously platonic friend after an interrupted sexual encounter. He feels guilty for thinking about Balthazar while pleasuring himself, but he also feels weird about _replacing_ Balthazar with Dean in his fantasies. It seems a little rude to just paste over someone like that.

Balthazar gives Castiel a look he can’t quite place, and for a wild moment, Castiel thinks maybe Balthazar knows what he did in his bed last night. He stares at Balthazar, not knowing what to make of his expression. He thinks about how he really should have given more thought to the consequences of kissing his friend before acting on the urge.

By the time lunch rolls around, Castiel is feeling incredibly concerned about all the odd looks he’s receiving from Balthazar. He waits for Balthazar to join their group in the cafeteria, but after five minutes he asks Hester to protect his lunch from Inias and heads out to search. He’s cautious as he walks through the halls, he doesn’t want to run into Alastair. They don’t share any classes together, so Castiel doesn’t often see him.

He finds Balthazar in the room they both just had AP English Literature in, still sitting at his desk, though the teacher and everyone else are long gone. Castiel hadn’t realized Balthazar stayed behind. Balthazar’s head is in his arms on the desk, and he’s drumming his fingers against the surface erratically.

"Balthazar?" Castiel says quietly.

Balthazar’s head shoots up in surprise. "Castiel." Castiel is surprised at Balthazar’s use of his name. It’s always ‘Cassie’, never ‘Castiel’. It feels cold and formal coming from him.

Castiel closes the door to the classroom and stands next to Balthazar’s desk. "Have I upset you?"

"What? Of course not."

"You just called me ‘Castiel’, and you’ve been giving me odd looks all day. I hope I didn’t upset you yesterday. I didn’t know if I should ask you to stay after Gabriel had come in, and… I feel like maybe I didn’t defend you properly to him."

"No, no. I’m sorry, Castiel. _Cassie,_ " Balthazar says, standing. He steps in front of Castiel, putting both hands on Castiel’s cheeks. "You've done nothing wrong. I’ve just been concerned that I took advantage of you yesterday, and I feel awful about it."

The light near the door flickers, distracting Castiel for a moment. "I didn’t see it as you taking _advantage_ of me. I was curious about what it was like to kiss someone."

"Still, I let it go too far. You just seemed so… relaxed, and you were in your underwear, and there was _skin,_ oh Christ, I sound like an idiot. I just don’t want you feeling violated."

Castiel tilts his head slightly. "This is about what happened to me on Halloween. I went through a bad experience, and it’s left an impression on me, but I’m still me. I trust that you’d have stopped if I’d asked."

"Of course, Cassie," Balthazar says earnestly.

"Alright, then. If you recall, I did give verbal consent."

"You make it sound so clinical."

Castiel frowns. "That’s just how I talk."

"Yes, I know. You’re still an odd duck."

"So I keep hearing. Are we okay, Balthazar?"

"I think so. I think maybe I just got myself a little worked up for no reason. It was very unexpected, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it."

"I’ve had that same problem. But I’m quite new to this sort of thing, I expect that’s not the case for you."

Balthazar smiles. "Um, no. Not that you weren’t very special, darling."

"I appreciate that. Though you probably say that to all the virgins you make out with."

"Actually," Balthazar says, slowly grinning, "that’s pretty accurate."

"That’s very reassuring," Castiel says drily.

"God, you are just…" Balthazar sighs in exasperation and pulls Castiel forward, tilting his head as he moves in to kiss him. Castiel is surprised, and hesitant, but he kisses back. He wants to see if it’s different this time. It’s still like before, though. It feels nice, but off somehow. Balthazar uses a surprising amount of strength to lift Castiel onto a desk, stepping between Castiel’s legs and making a pleased sound when Castiel’s legs squeeze against him. Once they’re back to kissing, Castiel tries sucking on Balthazar’s tongue. He seemed to like that last time.

Balthazar pushes against Castiel, growling. "Fuck, Cassie."

Castiel just nods absentmindedly, closing his eyes and tipping his head back as Balthazar starts dropping kisses down his neck. Castiel is torn between wanting more, and wanting this to stop. It feels great physically, but not emotionally, and maybe there’s no point in trying to force this. He feels conflicted, and… oddly cold. He thinks maybe it’s his imagination until he opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling.

He can see his own breath, and more of the lights are flickering. He knows this is significant, but with Balthazar biting and sucking on Castiel’s neck while he rubs their cocks together, it’s a little hard to think. Instead he gasps, mumbling what is probably gibberish, fingers digging into Balthazar’s hair. Balthazar freezes for a moment, and starts to pull away before shaking his head and getting back to kissing Castiel’s neck before Castiel can ask if something’s wrong.

Castiel likes how this feels, but it’s also starting to make his heart ache unpleasantly. He’s about to open his mouth to tell Balthazar he wants to stop when the light near the door explodes, shards of glass dropping to the floor.

Balthazar pulls away to stare. "What in the hell?"

"I...I don’t know," Castiel lies. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what caused something like a temperature drop and appliance failure. He’s just shocked that it happened.

"How odd. I could swear it was getting cold in here, too," Balthazar says, staring at the glass on the floor. "I suppose I should alert a janitor. This isn’t really an appropriate school time activity anyway."

"No, you’re right," Castiel mutters.

Balthazar checks the time on the wall clock. "Well, there’s about five minutes of lunch left. I’ll go tell the office about the light, you head off to class, alright?"

"Yes, yes okay," Castiel says. Balthazar frowns for a moment, looking like he wants to say something else. Instead he exhales, adjusting his clothes and smoothing a hand over his hair.

"How do I look?" Balthazar asks.

"Guilty."

"Ah, perfect!" Balthazar exits the room, with Castiel slowly making his way to the door. He looks around the room. The lights have stopped flickering and the temperature is back to normal.

"Dean?" he says quietly. Dean materializes by the door, frowning. "Have you… have you been here the whole time?" Dean nods. "Did you make the room get cold? And the lights, was that you?"

"I’m sorry," Dean says, "it wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t even know I _could_ do that."

"I… what _happened_?"

"I don’t know. It just sort of happened, and then it was over. I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to ruin… that. I shouldn’t have even been watching you guys. Guess my manners are in a coma too, huh?" Dean smiles sheepishly.

Castiel doesn’t return the smile. "I feel a bit… exposed."

"I’m sorry, Cas. A few months as a ghostly stalker have kind of numbed me to worrying about other people’s privacy. Ugh, fuck I’ve gotten so creepy, haven’t I, and since when are you and Balthazar make-out buddies?!"

Castiel is thrown by the abrupt shift in the conversation. "We’re not. I mean… we are. I don’t know. Since yesterday."

"Do you _like_ him?"

"Kind of. It was unexpected, and it feels wrong, sort of, and I don’t know if I actually like him or if I just like kissing."

"You don’t know? His _tongue_ was in your mouth," Dean snaps.

Castiel doesn’t appreciate how accusing Dean sounds. "I was going to stop him, but then you blew up the damn light bulb!"

"I was mad, okay?"

" _Why_? I didn’t… Why?" Castiel says, feeling slightly defeated. Dean opens his mouth to respond, but the bell rings. Castiel doesn’t know if this room gets used for fifth period, but he doesn’t want the janitor or a teacher to find him in here talking to himself with a small pile of broken glass on the floor. He leaves the room, feeling a little stupid when he holds the door open for Dean.

The halls are filling with students, so Castiel doesn’t say anything to Dean, just walks to his locker.

"I was jealous, okay?" Dean grumbles. "I’m basically dead, and I can’t touch or affect anything. Aside from errant light bulbs I guess, and he gets to kiss you, in your damn _underwear_ apparently."

Castiel opens his locker, turning to face Dean subtly. "He showed up while I was watching Die Hard in my underwear yesterday, and things escalated."

Dean smiles at that. "You took my advice?" Castiel nods. "Was that why you kissed Balthazar? Our conversation?"

"You made me curious, I guess," Castiel mutters. Dean nods, then looks off to the side.

"Uh, we’re going to have to cut this short. Looks like your friend Hester is pissed. I’m just going to go stalk my brother," Dean says quickly. Castiel opens his mouth to ask what he’s talking about, but Dean is already gone. Hester comes stomping up to him a moment later, giving him a pointed look.

"Well?" Hester asks, arms crossed.

Castiel has no idea what he’s done. "Well, what?"

"You left your lunch with me and then never came back, Castiel."

Castiel slaps his forehead. "My apologies, Hester, I completely forgot about lunch."

"Yes, I’m sure. Well, Inias enjoyed your meal very much."

"That’s fair," Castiel shrugs.

"Castiel, if I asked you why you disappeared from lunch and now have a hickey on your neck, would you tell me?"

Castiel turns to Hester sharply, clapping a hand over the spot on his neck that feels a little sore. "No."

"I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but this doesn’t seem like you."

Castiel sighs. "You’re not wrong."

"Just don’t become one of those people that ignores everything in favor of sex," Hester says.

Castiel wonders if she is speaking from her experience with Inias, or something else entirely. "I assure you, I was not having sex," he says, wondering if it counts as a lie.

"Good," Hester says. "Sex complicates things."

Castiel frowns. He wants to ask if Hester is okay, but from what he’s learned so far, she’s not the sort of person who would appreciate an inquiry like that. Especially since Castiel can’t reveal that he knows about her relationship.

"Well, come on then," Hester says, "we’re late." She shakes her head and hands Castiel a granola bar from her backpack. The bell rings, and she hits Castiel over the head. "Next time, come back."

"Thank you, Hester," Castiel says. Hester smiles, then takes off running in the direction of her next class. Castiel walks to his next class, eating his granola bar. He’s not in any rush. Frank Devereaux is his Probability and Statistics teacher, and is always at least five minutes late.

He thinks about what Hester said. She’s right. Sex has definitely complicated things for him, and he’s still a virgin.

 

***

 

Castiel sees Balthazar in sixth period AP Art History. He’s behaving the same way he was in Biology, giving Castiel odd looks. This class is in the same room they were kissing in just a while ago. The broken light bulb hasn’t been replaced, but the glass has been cleaned up. Castiel keeps staring at the desk he was sitting on while he and Balthazar kissed. It starts disturbing Ronald Reznick, the seat’s current occupant, so after a while Castiel stops.

He stares at the light instead. That moment when it exploded had been very alarming. How angry was Dean if his emotions caused the temperature to drop and the light to explode? He was angry about Alastair a while back, and all he did then was vanish. This is more like the angry spirit behavior Castiel read about while researching ghosts.

Castiel tries to fathom what Dean said about being jealous. It would have to be quite a bit of jealousy to warrant that reaction. But Dean has never shown any interest in Balthazar, and it’s difficult to believe he would feel that way about Castiel. He knows they’ve grown close in a short amount of time. He knows he himself has developed feelings for Dean.

Perhaps it’s not so crazy that Dean might have feelings for Castiel in return.

He likes Dean. He likes Dean enough that he’s been bringing illegally downloaded episodes of his favorite show in the middle of the night, and thinking about him during private moments. Dean maybe likes him too, beyond Castiel being the only person he can actually communicate with.

But Dean is still a ghost. Castiel can’t _date_ a ghost, right?

The bell rings, and Castiel realizes he didn’t hear a single thing his teacher said in the past fifty minutes. He copies down the reading assignment on the whiteboard, and tucks away the infosheet that landed on his desk at some point during the lecture. He debates asking someone for notes, but his only friend in this class is Balthazar, and Balthazar almost never bothers taking notes, claiming he doesn’t need them to study. He hopes he didn’t miss anything important.

Balthazar glances at Castiel as he leaves. His eyes are trained just a bit south of Castiel’s face, and Castiel realizes he’s probably staring at the hickey that’s too high for his shirt collar to hide. After a moment, Balthazar gives him an awkward wave and darts out of the room.

Castiel is never kissing anyone again, if this is going to be the result.

He pays more attention in Latin class. It helps that none of his friends have this class with him, and it’s not held in a room that he just fooled around with someone in. Mr. Singer would probably bite Castiel’s head off if he caught him staring off into space during his class anyway.

Castiel hangs around Balthazar’s locker after school. They need to talk about this. Castiel can tell him that he was curious before but that he’s over that now, and they can go back to normal, and Balthazar can stop giving him strange looks. After ten minutes of waiting, Samandriel spots him as he’s walking past.

"Are you waiting for Bal? I just saw him leave. I think his parents are picking him up from school while he’s grounded," Samandriel says.

"Oh. Thank you for letting me know, Samandriel," Castiel says, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Samandriel looks at Castiel’s neck. "Can I ask about the uh..."

"No."

Castiel makes a vow to wear a turtleneck tomorrow.

 


	10. Advanced Mortification

Castiel gets home, and is surprised to smell food cooking. Gabriel rarely cooks before heading to work. He’s even more surprised when it’s his mother that runs out of the kitchen to greet him.

"Castiel, you’re home!" Becky exclaims. Castiel is briefly confused. He’s gotten used to seeing Gabriel for a few hours a day, and his parents being gone. It always throws him off when they come back. He gladly accepts the hug his mother gives him, however.

"It smells like cookies," Castiel observes.

Becky claps her hands together excitedly. "I was so happy to have access to a real kitchen again, I just had to bake! Don’t eat too many, I’d be a terrible mom if I came home just to spoil your dinner! Plus, I want you to take some to your study group tomorrow!"

Castiel smiles. "That’s on Thursday. I’ll just have to spoil their lunches with cookies instead." Becky beams and heads back into the kitchen, and Castiel can’t help but be caught up in his mother’s infectious mood.

He’s in his room a bit later when he hears Gabriel’s "holy fuck, is someone _baking_?!" as he gets up for work. He hears his mother chide him for swearing, and his father warn him not to steal all the cookies. Castiel smiles, it’s actually kind of comforting to hear his family downstairs all at once. After a while, Castiel’s father comes up to his room to let him know that dinner is ready, and to give him a book on Norse mythology he picked up on his latest trip.

At dinner Gabriel is already off to work, so it’s just Castiel and his parents. They discuss college applications, what schools offer good folklore and mythology programs and how his college fund will be enough to get him through at least part of school, if not the whole four years. His parents are proud of the money they’ve saved, even with their frequent excursions. Becky’s romance novels don’t pull in huge numbers, but Chuck’s latest series has nabbed a bit of a cult following over the past few years, and that’s served the family well.

After dinner, Castiel is rinsing and drying the dishes while his father washes. His mother stands nearby, watching them with raised eyebrows.

"I know the discussion we had about sex when you were twelve was informative, so I won’t rehash it, but I do want to remind you that it’s important to use condoms, Castiel," Becky says carefully. Chuck drops the pot he was holding in surprise, and water sloshes all over his shirt. Castiel passes him the towel he was using for drying.

"This is about the hickey," Castiel says.

"I’m glad you’ve started dating," Becky muses, "you spend so much time on your own these days."

"I’m not...dating, exactly… and I’m certainly not having sex."

Chuck starts washing again while Castiel turns to face his mother, humming to himself lightly and already obviously preparing to tune out the conversation. Chuck’s discomfort with discussing sex is well known to Castiel, he knows his mother writes all the romantic scenes in his father’s books.

"I won’t be angry if you’re having sex. The age of consent is sixteen here, so as long as you’re being safe and emotionally responsible," Becky says.

"Oh god," Chuck mutters, washing the pot more vigorously. Castiel is surprised. He hadn’t known the age of consent was something other than eighteen, but then again the information had never been relevant.

"Be that as it may, Mother, I’m still a virgin," Castiel says.

"Well, as long as you do what’s right for you, that’s what matters," Becky says.

Castiel nods. "I… of course."

"So. You’re not dating or having sex. What’s with the hickey?" Becky asks.

Castiel sighs. "I was with a friend, and things got… heated… I was curious and things escalated, but now he’s being weird." Chuck drops the pot lid when Castiel says "he".

"He? Really?!" Becky looks almost manic.

"For the love of God, Becks. You’re his _mom_!" Chuck whines.

"Aw, my mother was always very tight-lipped about sex, I think it’s important for Castiel to know he can talk to me about anything! If you have any questions about sex with another man, let me know. I’ve done a _lot_ of research on it for my books," Becky says cheerfully. Castiel lets out a mortified wail and sprints out of the kitchen and up to his room, ignoring the "good talk, honey!" his mother yells.

 

***

 

A few hours later, Castiel has finished his homework and is debating on sending Balthazar an e-mail about his disheartening attitude, when there’s a knock on his door.

Castiel braces himself for more awkwardness. "Come in."

The door opens, it’s his father. "Uh, hey Cas."

Castiel sighs. This is going to be _excruciating._

"I told your mom I should be the one to talk to you, she gets a bit enthusiastic and… well we don’t want you to be uncomfortable," Chuck says, radiating discomfort.

Castiel just stares at his father.

"I just wanted to see if you needed to talk… maybe with someone a bit less… focused about the prospect of having a new avenue of research for her erotic gay novels," Chuck says, staring at the wall. He looks like every word he says is causing him physical pain. Castiel can just imagine his mother’s excitement at having a possible gay son to question when she’s working on her next story. The likelihood of that happening is making Castiel want to flee the country.

"I really don’t need to talk, especially about sex. It’s unnecessary," Castiel says.

Chuck sits at Castiel’s desk, turning the chair to face him on the bed. "Okay, maybe not about sex then, but you said your friend that you did… um… not sex things with… was being weird. I thought maybe you might want someone to talk to about that."

Castiel closes his laptop and looks down at his bedspread. He wonders how his father would react if he told him he had two dry-humping sessions with Balthazar, one on school grounds in between classes, and one in the very room they’re in now. Chuck’s head would probably explode. He’d have better luck discussing how he has feelings for a comatose boy that haunts his school in spirit form.

"There was an… encounter," Castiel begins slowly, "with a friend. And now, the friend is not making eye contact with me."

"Did you ask him about it?" Chuck asks.

"I did. I asked him. He said we were okay, and then it happened all over again, with us… kissing… and things. And now he is acting strange again," Castiel frowns as he finishes speaking. He thought talking about one’s problems was supposed to be cathartic, but instead he just feels sort of hopeless about the situation.

"Well, homosexuality can be a lot to come to terms with. Is he… in the closet?" Chuck looks like he’d rather be anywhere in the world.

"No, he’s more bisexual than anything else, and I doubt he’s concerned with how others feel about his preferences."

"Oh. Um," Chuck is floundering for words.

Castiel decides to rescue them both from this conversation. "Father, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do, but I’d rather try to deal with this on my own." That’s not entirely true. Castiel _would_ like some guidance, but this conversation is like pulling teeth.

Chuck breathes a deep sigh of relief. "Oh… um… well if you’re sure." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what Castiel recognizes as one of his mother’s make-up compacts. "Your mother wanted me to give this to you. Um, in case you want to cover your… your um…"

"Hickey," Castiel supplies.

"Yeah. That. She said it’s her best stuff, and that it should match your skin tone or whatever," Chuck says. "She also said you should wear a t-shirt and a low-collared jacket because the make-up will rub off in your collar otherwise."

Castiel accepts the compact from his father. "Please, thank her for me. Assuming she hasn’t been standing in the hallway this entire time." Castiel hears a squeak and then the sound of footsteps rushing away.

Chuck stands and gives Castiel an awkward pat on the head. "If you change your mind, you can always talk to me. Or your mom. Or your brother." Chuck pauses, then lowers his voice. "Michael. Not Gabriel. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take _any_ relationship advice from Gabriel." Castiel raises his eyebrows, but nods. Chuck bids him a good night, then makes a hasty exit.

Castiel was right. That _was_ excruciating. But at least he has an alternative to wearing a turtleneck tomorrow.

 

***

 

Castiel’s day starts with a truly embarrassing moment where he realizes he knows nothing about applying make-up and has to enlist his mother’s help in covering up his hickey. She’s delighted to help, and keeps trying to pry details of how he received the hickey out of him, and Castiel wants to crawl back into his bed and maybe die.

The day doesn’t improve when he arrives at his second period class and discovers Balthazar’s behavior hasn’t changed. The most acknowledgement he receives is when Balthazar does a double-take at the sight of Castiel’s neck, probably wondering where the hickey has gone. Castiel wonders if it’s poor etiquette to cover up a hickey one has received.

On the way to lunch, Castiel catches Alastair staring at him from the doorway to a classroom he walks past, and his appetite evaporates instantly. When he gets to his table, he sets out a bag of the cookies his mother made, much to everyone’s excitement. Balthazar joins their table a minute later, and after ten minutes of Balthazar talking to everyone _but_ him, Castiel decides he’s had enough and leaves without bothering to excuse himself. He hears Samandriel ask what’s up with him, and scowls to himself at Balthazar’s reply of "beats me".

The room he has fifth period in has a class in session, so Castiel can’t wait out lunch in there. He wanders for a while until he finds himself in one of the bathrooms, washing his hands just to have something to do. He’s drying his hands when he hears the door creak open. He glances over and his heart sinks into his stomach. Alastair. Alastair freezes when he sees him, as if _Castiel_ is the dangerous one in the room. Castiel is torn between wanting to run from the room, and not wanting to make any sudden movements.

Alastair twitches slightly then walks over to the sinks. He’s holding his jacket, which Castiel notes has a large smear of Wite-Out on it. Castiel feels like he’s going to vomit when Alastair reaches right next to him to grab a few paper towels. He remains frozen even as Alastair quietly works the mess out of his jacket, even as Alastair turns and walks out of the bathroom. Castiel lets out a shuddering breath as the bathroom door closes, leaving him alone again.

"That was intense." Castiel yelps and flattens himself against the wall before looking to see who’s just spoken. It’s Dean, standing near the door and looking at Castiel in concern.

"You’re lurking in _bathrooms_ now?" Castiel grumbles. "I’m never peeing at the school again."

"I’m not lurking in bathrooms now, I was wandering around in the hallway, saw you, and followed you in here. I don’t normally go in the bathrooms. There’s some things I don’t need to see. Although. Okay. _Okay_ I did once check out the changing rooms. But then I felt guilty and besides, what’s the point of looking at naked chicks when I don’t have an actual dick?" Dean says, like all of this is perfectly acceptable. "Don’t worry. You can pee in the bathrooms. You always use a stall, and I’ve never followed you into a stall."

Castiel stares at Dean. "This isn’t making me feel better."

"Why not? I’m saying I’ve never watched you pee or take a shit or anything! That’s a _good_ thing!" Dean argues, then abruptly closes his mouth and furrows his eyebrows. "This is weird, isn’t it?"

"Yes, Dean. It’s weird," Castiel says. Dean hangs his head in apparent shame. "But, um, I appreciate you not watching me void my bowels or empty my bladder." Dean grimaces and Castiel can’t help but smile at that.

"Alright, well speaking of creepy, that was pretty fucked up. With Alastair just now," Dean says, turning serious.

Castiel nods, shuddering. "I agree."

"What was with you just _standing there_ though?"

"I just… I felt like I couldn’t move," Castiel says, frowning.

"Well. I guess it was for the best. I mean he left and everything without any trouble. Why are you in here, anyway?"

Castiel shrugs. "I am just killing some time."

"Instead of eating lunch?"

"Balthazar is behaving… oddly, and I’ve lost my patience for it. I don’t appreciate being given a cold shoulder after multiple encounters where I was particularly vulnerable," Castiel grumbles.

Dean frowns. "Guys get like that sometimes, maybe he’s worried you’re getting too attached?"

"I’m not, though. I have little to no interest in pursuing a sexual or romantic relationship with Balthazar right now, especially given his behavior." Castiel says, frustrated.

Dean smiles for a brief moment then very obviously forces his face into a more neutral expression. "You should talk to him. Or you know, _try_ to talk to him again."

"Confrontation is not my strong suit, Dean."

"Come on, it’ll be fine. Balthazar can’t see me, I’ll coach you through it. Let’s go now, before your next class," Dean says, sounding cheerful. Castiel sighs, but acquiesces. They walk quickly to the cafeteria, Dean telling Castiel an amusing story about a boy in Sam’s class dozing off and then falling out of his chair this morning.

When they reach the cafeteria, there’s less than ten minutes until the bell rings. Castiel’s friends are still at their table.

"Alright, now get him in the hall," Dean says.

"How?" Castiel mutters.

"Be forceful! I think his surprise will make him obedient. I’ve seen that work tons of times. People are so surprised someone is barking orders at them that they just go along with it," Dean says, sounding sure of himself. Castiel gives him an uneasy look, then marches up to the table. Everyone looks up at him.

"I need to talk to you, Balthazar," Castiel says, trying to sound strong.

"You call that forceful?" Dean says unhelpfully.

"Can’t it wait? Lunch will be over soon, I’m not done with my fries," Balthazar says.

" _Forceful,_ Cas!" Dean orders.

Castiel makes a small growling sound and grabs Balthazar by the arm. "Come with me. NOW." Dean cheers as Castiel drags Balthazar from the table. Like Dean predicted, Balthazar’s surprise seems to be compelling him to just go along with the situation. Castiel shoves Balthazar into the hallway and Balthazar seems to snap out of the daze he was in.

"Have you lost your damn mind?!" Balthazar barks.

Castiel glares. "I tried asking, you were uncooperative."

Dean snorts.

"Fine, fine," Balthazar says, "I’m here. What do you want to talk about?" Castiel huffs several angry breaths as Balthazar eyes him warily. Then to Castiel’s horror, his own eyes start filling with tears. "Aw, Cassie."

Dean looks over at Castiel, and his face falls. "Jesus, Cas. I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea."

Castiel shakes his head vigorously. "No, it’s… I can do this. I’m just bad with confrontation."

"Are we having a confrontation?" Balthazar asks.

Castiel glares. "We kissed. We kissed, and you got weird, and it was difficult but I came and talked to you, and you told me we were okay. Then it all happened again, and I am frustrated. Apparently frustrated enough to shed _tears_ over this, which makes me even more frustrated. I’m not used to this level of vulnerability, and I hate it. Just tell me why you keep ignoring me. Why did you lie and say things were okay if they weren’t?! Did you just say that so you could… because you wanted…" Castiel can’t even finish the sentence.

"Cassie!" Balthazar looks horrified. "Cassie, no. No. I wouldn’t lie to trick one of my best friends into making out with me, good God."

"One of your best friends?" Castiel says quietly.

"I didn’t lie. I thought we were okay. I meant it when I said that. But then we kissed, and… do you honestly not remember?"

Castiel is lost. "Remember what? The lights breaking?"

"You moaned another guy’s _name,_ Cassie," Balthazar says.

Castiel says "I did?" at the same time he hears Dean saying "you did?"

"Yes, and I tried to ignore that you’d said it, and then the stupid lights broke. But then later the more I thought about it, the more hurt I felt," Balthazar says.

This is not at all what Castiel was expecting. "I didn’t know. I had know idea I’d done that, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, Balthazar. I understand now why you’ve been upset, that must have been very insulting."

"It was not a kind moment for my ego. I get that we’re not dating, I don’t even know if you _do_ things like date, and it’s not like we’re an item, but that really stung."

"I’m sorry. I honestly had no idea I’d done it, I would have apologized right away," Castiel says. He’s so embarrassed.

"If it helps," Dean says, "I didn’t notice you doing it either and I was right in the room. Ask him whose name you said!" Castiel shoots Dean a glare, and Dean raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Well, I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you. But it was all so embarrassing," Balthazar says.

"We probably never should have altered the fabric of our relationship."

"I’ll try not to be insulted by that, Cassie."

"I just mean that I was not prepared for the consequences of our attempted coupling," Castiel says.

"Who fucking _talks_ like that?!" Dean interjects.

"Is that what we were doing?" Balthazar asks.

"The first time, anyway," Castiel says.

Balthazar nods. "And the second time?"

"I was about to stop things when the light broke. Don’t be insulted, Bal, it was just how I was feeling… and it felt all wrong," Castiel says softly, staring at the floor.

"Because of Dean?"

Castiel looks sharply over at Balthazar. "What?"

"Dean. That’s the name you said," Balthazar says easily, like he isn’t dropping a bomb on Castiel. Castiel looks over at Dean in alarm, but Dean has apparently vanished. Castiel hopes with all his heart that he vanished _before_ Balthazar spoke.

"I… I…"

"So, is he someone from your old school? The only Dean I know of around here is the one that’s been in a coma since before you even got here, so I’ll assume it’s not him. I think he’s straight anyway, since he dated my albatross of a sister and half the the girls in school."

"I… yes. Dean is the name of a boy I used to know. Back in Maine." The bell rings as Castiel finishes his lie, and the empty hallway immediately starts to fill with students.

Hester comes out of the cafeteria, levelling Castiel with a disapproving look before handing him a granola bar. The others in their group walk by, waving.

"We ate all the cookies," Hester says. "You need to stop skipping lunch, Castiel."

"What are you, his damn nanny now?" Balthazar says.

"I’m being a _friend,_ you troglodyte," Hester snaps. She spins on her heel, headed for her locker.

Balthazar turns back to Castiel. "What do you say we pretend the last couple of days never happened?"

"Does that mean you won’t be telling the others that you saw me cry?" Castiel asks hopefully.

"Hester would probably skin me alive if she found out I made you cry," Balthazar says.

"You didn’t _make-_ "

"Come on, let’s get moving. I've got Crowley for fifth period, and he’s always pissy after lunch," Balthazar says.

 

***

 

Over the next couple of days, Castiel is pleased that his interactions with Balthazar really do return to normal. The awkwardness and the odd looks are gone, and Castiel is very grateful. Less pleasing, however, is that Castiel hasn’t seen Dean since the cafeteria.

This isn’t like when his parents are gone for days or weeks at a time on one of their many excursions. He can’t e-mail or call Dean, and he doesn’t have the comfort of knowing Dean will be back.

On Thursday, Castiel’s group meets for their usual study session. Castiel is a bit surprised to see Marv at his desk for once. Even without facing actual punishment, he seems to have at least learned his lesson about what can go wrong if he habitually abandons his post. Unfortunately, Marv keeps shooting Castiel these guilty looks, and it’s getting uncomfortable.

"Why does the librarian keep _looking_ at us?" Rachel whispers, agitated.

"Why is he even here?" Samandriel adds.

"He’s _supposed_ to be here when there are students here," Hester says, "he’s actually doing his job for once. Aside from all the staring. I’d love for the staring to stop."

"Go ask him if he wants something," Balthazar says, pushing at Hester’s shoulder.

"Um, I’ll pass, thanks."

"Why don’t you go, Balthazar?" Inias hisses.

"It’s fine," Castiel says, standing up, "I’ll go." Everyone gives him encouraging looks as he steps away from their table. He knows very well why Marv keeps staring, and he’d like for his friends to not find out about that ever.

Marv eyes Castiel warily as he approaches. "Castiel."

"You’re alarming my friends with all the staring," Castiel says. He feels ridiculous, scolding someone that’s in an arguable position of authority.

"I’m sorry," Marv says, "it’s just… I have to pee."

Castiel stares. _Why_ is he telling Castiel this? "Why are you telling me this?"

"The last time I left students unattended, you were assaulted."

Castiel is incredibly annoyed, now. "You were gone for _hours_ and I was in here alone. This time you’ll be gone a few minutes and I have a table full of friends in here with me. Can you not see the difference?"

"I’m asking a student for permission to go to the bathroom, aren’t I… this is a low point."

"Look," Castiel growls, "would I have been beaten unconscious last week if you’d been in here like you were supposed to be? Probably not." Marv winces. "But at the very least, you’re not the one that assaulted me, and you’re making everyone in here uncomfortable, so I need you to pull yourself together and move past it like I’m trying to."

Marv furrows his eyebrows and Castiel feels all of his angry confidence leave him. He’s scolding an _adult,_ what is he thinking? But Marv just hangs his head before getting up and leaving, presumably for the bathroom. Castiel goes back to his table. Everyone is staring at him in awe.

"What did you _say_ to him?" Balthazar asks.

"He looked terrified of you!" Hester adds.

Samandriel’s eyes are wide. "Did you threaten him?"

Castiel balks. "Of course not! I told him we noticed he was staring, and I asked if we were being too loud."

"That’s it?" Samandriel looks unconvinced.

"Then why did he look so spooked?" Inias asks.

"I have no idea. Perhaps he is dealing with personal problems," Castiel offers. It’s true, after all.

"Was that really everything that was said? He did look very disturbed. The conversation looked intense," Balthazar says.

Castiel shrugs. "I just asked if we were too loud, he said no, and apologized for staring. He said he’d just been staring off into space while thinking about answers to his crossword puzzle, then I helped him with the one he was stuck on." Castiel is a little disgusted with how easily he’s lying, but he can’t tell the truth. Hester would probably demand Marv be fired, and Balthazar would start enquiring about Castiel’s attacker again.

"He really did look freaked, though," Inias says.

Hester tuts. "Well if he’s having problems at home, he really should keep himself together during work hours and not alarm children in a library."

"Does anyone else object to being referred to as a child?" Balthazar says. Everyone but Hester raises their hands, and just like that, the subject of the staring librarian is dropped.

When Marv returns from the bathroom, he keeps his guilty stares aimed at his own desk.

 


	11. Visitor

On Friday night, Castiel is disappointed when he can't find Dean at the school to watch the newest episode of Dr. Sexy. He is loathe to admit it, but he actually wants to know what happens next. He considers watching on his own, but decides it won't be the same without Dean.

 

***

 

It's Tuesday, over a week later. Castiel now has two episodes of Dr. Sexy waiting to be watched, and still no sign of Dean. Castiel misses him so much he's starting to ache with it. He wants to see Dean, talk to him, watch their show, thank him for the advice in confronting Balthazar.

He also wants to know if Dean was still there when Balthazar said the part about Castiel moaning Dean's name. He's scared that Dean heard and is upset with him, or uncomfortable. He wants to apologize, or do _something_ to make sure things are okay, but he can't do any of that until Dean shows up.

After school, Castiel bikes home. His house is empty, Gabriel must have gone to work early. His parents are off somewhere in the contiguous United States as usual, but they made solemn vows to be home for Thanksgiving.

He feels very lonely.

He paces his room for all of three minutes before he leaves and bikes to Lawrence General Hospital. He's not certain that this is where Dean is, but it's the closest hospital to his school that has long term care. He arrives at the hospital at around half past four, and asks the check-in desk about Dean. They direct him to the information desk, who directs him to another information desk on the third floor, who directs him to Dean's single-bed room with a stern warning that visiting hours for this wing of the hospital end at six o'clock.

Castiel hesitates when he reaches Dean's room. What the hell does he think he's doing? He starts to turn and walk away, then changes his mind again. He's come all this way. He walks in and closes the door without looking at the patient in the bed. He has to take a few deep breaths before he has the courage to look.

He claps a shocked hand over his mouth. He doesn't know what he expected, but Dean is nearly unrecognizable. Instead of a vibrant, tanned youth in a leather jacket and faded jeans, this Dean is pale in his hospital gown, and a little on the thin side. His hair is a few inches longer, and he has a messy beard.

There's tubing going through Dean's nose, and his body is hooked up to machines measuring his vitals and giving him necessary nutrients. He looks nothing like the person Castiel knows, but somehow he's still beautiful. Castiel's stomach lurches.

This was an absolutely terrible idea.

Castiel cautiously walks closer to the bed, staring at Dean's face. He doesn't quite look like he's in a coma, he looks like he's just wrung out and sleeping off a bad night. Castiel wants to say something, but he remembers that Dean said sometimes he really can hear his visitors. He feels embarrassed that he came by at all, he doesn't need Dean to know that he missed him so much that he showed up to visit his body. He stands next to Dean's bed and just stares for several minutes. He wishes he could wake Dean up, he wishes he could just yell in Dean's ear until those beautiful green eyes popped open, and Dean could stop being trapped at the school. He knows Dean has a family that misses him, and the hospital bills must be astronomical by now.

Castiel huffs an irritated breath when he realizes he's crying. This is too much. He needs to go home, or go back to the school and look for Dean. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and leans over Dean, kissing him gently on the forehead and letting out a small sob. Dean is trapped between two worlds while Alastair gets to go on with his life unpunished. It's not fair.

After another minute passes, Castiel forces himself to turn away from Dean. More tears are falling. He can't stay here anymore, he has to go back to the school and look for Dean. He looks at Dean one last time on his way out, pulls open the door—

...and runs right into Sam Winchester.

"Castiel? What are you doing here? Why are you crying?" Sam looks as gobsmacked as Castiel feels. Castiel cringes. He hopes Dean didn't hear what Sam just said.

"I'm sorry," Castiel mutters, "I need to go." Castiel runs, not stopping when Sam calls after him.

He's unlocking his bike and wiping his tears away when a breathless Sam comes running up to him. Castiel looks at him guiltily.

"Geez, Castiel, you didn't have to run. I'm not mad at you for visiting Dean, I was just surprised. You didn't know Dean, did you?" Sam asks, still catching his breath.

"No, I've never met him," Castiel says. He dislikes pretending he doesn't know Dean, but no one would believe the truth anyway.

"So why'd you come see him?"

Castiel searches for a plausible explanation. "I heard some kids talking about him, and… I had an aunt in a coma once. I wanted to send some positive energy to him, like I did with her." Lies, lies, lies. Castiel doesn't even _have_ an aunt.

"That's kind of… unusual, but hey anyone paying respects to Dean is cool in my book. He's a friendly guy, I think he'd like to know even strangers care about his wellbeing. As long as you're not like… taking pictures or drawing on his face or something," Sam says with a smile.

Castiel shakes his head. "I would never."

"I'm glad he has visitors. Mom and Dad don't come by much because they get too sad… and most of his friends are gone until the holidays. College and stuff. I come by some days. I just do my homework and tell him about my day. Just in case he can hear me. I've read about coma patients that wake up and talk about nightmares they had while they were under, so I want Dean to hear my voice, know I'm there for him."

Castiel manages a smile at Sam. Dean may not be trapped in a cycle of nightmares he needs rescuing from, but Castiel knows Sam's visits still mean a lot to him.

"You're a good brother, Sam," Castiel says.

"So, did your aunt wake up?" Sam asks. "Did she hear you talking while she was in her coma?"

"She said she knew we were there sometimes. She um, she's gone now. Unrelated reasons."

"That sucks, I'm sorry," Sam says.

Castiel feels ridiculous talking about a fictitious and apparently dead aunt. "It's okay, it was a long time ago." Sam nods. He fishes a tissue out of his pocket and hands it to Castiel. Castiel feels like such an asshole. Sam is a sweet kid, and here Castiel is lying to him.

"Seeing him probably brought back a lot of memories of your aunt, huh?" Sam asks.

"Yes, it was very overwhelming," Castiel says, uncomfortable. "Thank you for the tissue, Sam."

"Well, I'd better go back, visiting hours are over in a while."

Castiel wipes his eyes as Sam heads for the hospital, mustering up a smile when he turns around to wave goodbye.

 

***

 

Castiel is shaken, but he rides his bike back to the school. It's closed and empty by the time he arrives. He locks up his bike and wanders around the school at first, alternating between walking and running, feeling panicked. He doesn't know why, just that he's tired, and he's stressed, and he wants to find Dean.

It's after eight o'clock when Castiel finally runs out of energy. He's laying on an exercise mat in the unlocked gym supply shed by the soccer field. Someone left the light on in here, and he for an odd moment he wonders what kind of money the school has to pay for electricity each month. He's so tired, and he needs to go home. He has homework to do, he has things he needs to get done. Instead, he curls up slightly and sobs. He cries with his whole body, in a way he can't remember doing since he was a child, and feels thankful no one is around to see him like this.

"Cas…"

Castiel is too drained to even be surprised. He opens his eyes slowly to look at Dean, then lets out another sob.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean says softly.

"I thought maybe this was it, maybe you were gone for good this time," Castiel says, closing his eyes again.

"I got startled. The last time you saw me, I got startled, and I felt myself vanish, and when I came back it was _days_ later, and you couldn't see me. It was awful, Cas, I kept calling out to you, but you couldn't hear me. I was scared you'd never hear me again. This ghost thing sucks, it has rules and boundaries that I have no way of knowing until I'm confronted with them," Dean says. He sounds so shaken. Castiel opens his eyes again. Dean is laying just in front of him, staring at him with sad eyes. Castiel is grateful to see those eyes. "I'm sorry, Cas. Sometimes I can control whether you see me or not, and sometimes I can't."

"I really missed you, Dean," Castiel says. He hates that he can't hug Dean, or cling to him, or breathe him in and know he's really there.

"You just want an excuse to watch more Dr. Sexy, admit it," Dean jokes. Castiel's laugh comes out sounding more like another sob. "You came to see me in the hospital," Dean adds.

Castiel freezes. "My behavior today has been incredibly erratic. Your brother caught me, and I gave him some lie about paying my respects because you reminded me of a dead aunt."

Dean grimaces. "Yikes."

"Well I couldn't tell him why I was _really_ there."

"Why _were_ you really there?"

"I wanted to see you, but I couldn't find you… so I went to where I knew you'd be," Castiel mutters, quiet enough that he can pretend Dean can't hear him.

"And?"

Castiel blinks. "And what?"

"How did I look?" Dean asks with a grin. Castiel lets out a weird whimper. "That bad, huh?"

"You're thinner, and pale, and your hair is longer, and you have a beard. You have tubes going into your body, in your arms, and I didn't check, but I'm assuming you have a catheter."

"So… that's not hot," Dean says, looking a bit horrified.

"No."

"It's weird that I look like that in the hospital, but here…"

"You look more alive here than you do in the hospital."

"Thanks?"

"You're still beautiful, Dean, even in a coma," Castiel says, then winces. Erratic behavior indeed. He should never speak again.

"W-what?" Dean asks. Castiel sits up abruptly, Dean follows suit.

"I can't believe I said that out loud. I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm so tired."

Dean looks skeptical at best. "That's it? You're just tired?"

"I am."

"And when you were in my room, kissing me on the forehead?"

Castiel is ready for the earth to swallow him whole now. "How…?"

"A nurse saw you. He was telling another nurse about it when they were checking on my room after Sam left. He was a homophobic dick about it, but I heard him."

"I don't know what came over me, I'm really very sorry," Castiel says, ashamed.

"Then there's what Balthazar said, that while he was kissing you, and touching you, it was _my_ name you called out," Dean says casually.

Castiel can feel the bottom drop out of his stomach. So Dean _did_ hear what Balthazar said. "I hadn't even realized…"

"I'm a ghost. I can't touch or affect anything. But you… you want me anyway," Dean says slowly, like the thought is newly dawning on him. Maybe it is.

"Dean…"

"You do."

Castiel needs to say something, anything. "Dean, I…"

"There are times when you look at me and I feel my heart skip a beat like in some corny romance novel. Totally baffles the doctors when it happens. They've done tests and shit. Hearing that you were thinking of _me_ when you were with Balthazar got me so worked up I fuckin' disappeared, Cas."

"What are you…"

"I'm saying that… if you like me… that's okay."

"It's not okay!" Castiel snaps. "Nothing is okay, not if I have feelings for an apparition haunting my school, how is that _okay_?"

"I know, Cas. I know. I'm in a coma. I might never wake up, and if I do… God knows what condition I'll be in. I know coma patients wake up with amnesia, or they don't know how to walk, or they're just never the same again. I know. None of that is okay. I just meant… you can stop being terrified of how I'm gonna react, okay?"

Castiel stares. "I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that," Dean says, offering a smile. Castiel smiles back. "If I had a body, this would be the part where I kissed you, maybe tried to get in your pants since I've got no manners."

"I am… sorry to be missing out on that experience," Castiel says, and he definitely means it.

"Me too. I've never been with a guy that I didn't _despise._ "

"I wish you'd been my first kiss," Castiel blurts out.

Dean grins. "Yeah?"

"Don't tell Balthazar."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"I can't believe I told you that. I really am off today."

"Because you missed me," Dean teases, and Castiel can feel himself blush. "God, I miss my dick."

"Dean!"

"Is that an overshare? Well, whatever. I miss it. I don't feel arousal the same way anymore. I just feel the sort of emotional aspect, maybe my heart goes a little weird, but I don't get that tingly warmth. I miss that."

Castiel considers what Dean just said for a moment. "Are… you saying you're somewhat aroused _now_?"

"What can I say? You're cute when you blush."

"You're very honest," Castiel observes.

"Well, I wasn't always. Being denied the ability to express myself to others has made me more open I guess. A few months ago I'd have never told someone I like them. Which I do. Like you, obviously. But yeah I probably wouldn't have said a thing before this all happened. Especially to a dude. I was still pretty new to that."

"Do you think… if you were awake...I mean you could probably have your pick of anyone," Castiel babbles.

"It's hard to say for sure, honestly. I mean if I woke up right _now_ I'd be all over you. But if I'd been awake all this time… I don't know. I'm not who I was. But if nothing else, I'd have checked you out. You've got a pretty face, and those amazing eyes. I'm sure I'd have rubbed one out thinking about you once or twice."

"Dean!"

"You're going to have to learn to appreciate my bluntness. Something about you makes me want to spill all my thoughts."

"About hypothetically pleasuring yourself to thoughts of me?"

"Yes."

"I assume I should be taking this as a compliment."

"Masturbation is the sincerest form of flattery, Cas."

"I'm pretty sure the saying is that _imitation_ is the sincerest form of flattery."

" _I'm_ pretty sure I'd be more flattered if you were getting off to thoughts of me than if you started copying my haircut or something."

Castiel blushes even more.

Dean quirks an eyebrow, then grins. "You ever think about me, Cas?" Castiel bites his lower lip, not saying anything. "Come on…"

Castiel caves. "Once."

"Really?" Dean looks elated. Castiel is equal parts mortified and electrified by his own daring.

"It was unintentional."

"Meaning?"

"I was… it was after my first experience with Balthazar." God, is Castiel really going to talk about this? "I was thinking about it… and that it f-felt really good, and I um… started to um… and then my mind went to you instead." Castiel's face is burning. He can't believe he's saying this out loud, to another person. To _this_ person.

"You really got off thinking about me, Cas?"

"Yes," Castiel whispers. He knows Dean isn't bothered by it, but he can't help but feel ashamed anyway.

"Damn," Dean whines, "I miss a lot of good shit being stuck here."

"Sorry about that."

"You should record yourself next time and show me."

" _Dean_!"

"Come on, I'm just messing with you. Kind of. I mean I know I said I don't feel arousal the same way now, but I still wouldn't say no to a free show," Dean gives Castiel a big, cheesy grin.

"I uh, I'm sorry I don't have anything to show you."

Dean pauses for a long, long moment. "You could, though. Right now."

Castiel _must_ have heard wrong. "Wh... _what_?"

"You could touch yourself right now. No one would ever know. You'd come to school every day and no one would know what you did here but you and me," Dean says, sounding really into the idea.

"Dean, I couldn't," Castiel says, because really, who _does_ that?

"Well hey, I won't make you. I mean even if I _could_ make you, I wouldn't make you. But as someone who's been watched while jerking off before, you might be depriving yourself of an awesome orgasm, Cas."

"It's too embarrassing," Castiel says. He pushes the exercise mat against the wall and sits, propped up. Dean stares at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm considering it. I'd hate to deprive myself of an awesome orgasm."

Dean grins wolfishly. "Touch yourself, Cas."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," Castiel says, looking down at himself.

"What do you do when you're home in your bed? What did you do when you were thinking about me?"

"Well, I was more comfortable that time, and alone."

"Variety is the spice of life, man."

"I was laying down," Castiel offers.

"Okay, lay down," Dean says. Castiel lays down, using his coat as a pillow. He turns his head to his left to look over at Dean, giving him a sheepish smile.

"I feel ridiculous."

"Who am I gonna tell?" Dean reasons. "Besides, I think you look amazing like this."

Castiel lays his right hand on his chest, slowly moving it down towards his pants. "And if you do tell anyone, somehow, I'll go to your hospital room and shave off a big stripe of hair down the middle of your head."

Dean gives Castiel a big grin and a thumbs up. "Sounds like a plan. Now come on. You're supposed to be pretending you're somewhere more comfortable. Try closing your eyes."

Castiel closes his eyes, resting his hand awkwardly over his crotch. "I still feel like I'm in a supply shed."

"Relax, Cas. Just relax. Um. This is awkward, but if I uh… vanish… don't take it personally, okay? Just remember I've got weird involuntary ghost quirks."

"That's not making me feel more comfortable."

"Oh, right. Okay, get back to relaxing and thinking about the last time you did this. Keep your eyes closed. What were you wearing?"

Castiel keeps his eyes closed. "A t-shirt and boxers."

"Oh. Well, since it's November, and we're in a shed, maybe skip on recreating that part."

"Good idea."

"Alright. Open your pants."

Castiel swallows the lump of anxiety in this throat and obeys, undoing the button and zipper of his khakis with shaky hands.

"Put your hand in your boxers," Dean says softly, "don't forget to keep your eyes closed."

Castiel nods, pushing his hand past the waistband of his boxers. This is less stressful with Dean instructing him. His hand is a bit cold, but it warms quickly as he presses it against his thigh.

"So," Dean says, "what were you thinking about the last time?"

"It was the night after I'd been...doing things with Balthazar," Castiel says. He worries for a moment that Dean will be annoyed, but Dean just keeps talking.

"What did you guys do?"

"We kissed. He was fully dressed, but I was just in my underwear. We'd been sharing a carton of ice cream, so our mouths were cold, and uh… sticky."

"Go on."

"He rolled me onto my back, and was between my legs. He was rubbing our… our um… groins together through our clothes."

"Come on, say cocks, Cas. Say he was rubbing your cocks together."

"H-he was rubbing our c-cocks together," Castiel says quietly. He feels himself twitch in his boxers at hearing himself use the coarse word.

"So that's what you were thinking about when you started touching yourself?"

"Yes."

"Grab your dick, Cas."

Castiel immediately obeys before he even realizes what he's doing. He can feel his face flush with embarrassed and thrilled warmth.

"God," Dean mutters, "that's… okay, keep talking. What did you think about next?"

Castiel absentmindedly strokes his hardening erection as he rolls the memory over in his head. "I started wondering what would have happened if my brother hadn't interrupted. That's why we stopped that first time. Then after I thought about that, I started picturing things going further with Balthazar… and then…"

"And then?"

"You," Castiel pants, "I started thinking about your eyes… and just… you, and my heart started beating faster."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Castiel pulls himself out of his boxers, despite the chill in the air. He wants Dean to see what effect he's having, wants Dean to see how hard he is.

"Fuck," Dean mutters.

Castiel wants to see Dean's expression, but he was told to keep his eyes closed, so he does. He runs his hand over the head of his dick, slicking his palm with the moisture already gathering at the tip.

"Jesus fucking hell. Keep going, Cas. What else did you think about?" Dean demands.

Castiel gives himself a wet stroke, trying to remember what he'd thought about next. He's vaguely aware of his left hand clenching and unclenching against the exercise mat.

"I was wishing you'd been my first kiss," Castiel says. "I started imagining what I'd done with Balthazar, but with you in his place."

" _Shit,_ " Dean says. Castiel moans in response, maintaining a slow, fairly even pace as he strokes himself.

"I wondered what you'd be like in bed, if you'd be rough or not. I think I'd like it either way." Castiel's hand moves incrementally faster as he pictures rough sex with Dean. He wonders who would top. The thought of being inside of Dean makes him bite his lip so hard he draws a little blood. The sound he makes is halfway between a moan and a whine.

"Did you think about anything else?"

"I thought about whether or not you'd be a talker… I tried to imagine what you'd say to me while we f… f… while we had sex," Castiel stammers.

"While we fucked, Cas?"

" _Yes,_ Dean. I thought about what you'd say while we fucked, and that made me come."

"Funny thing is," Dean says "sometimes I really _am_ quite a talker in bed." Castiel's responding moan is loud and hysterical. Dean has moved closer, he's speaking right into Castiel's ear.

"Oh… oh God."

"I'm not always a Chatty Cathy in the sack, maybe with you I'd be too blissed out to speak, or maybe I wouldn't be able to shut up about what I wanted to do to you."

"Tell me… tell me what you'd want to do to me… please. _Dean_."

"I'll tell you. But you gotta take your hand off yourself first. Until I say you can put it back, okay?"

Castiel nods shakily and moves his hand away reluctantly. His heart is thudding wildly, and he's panting like he just ran several blocks.

"God, Cas. You're fucking perfect, aren't you? If I was here… _really_ here, I'd be sucking you off right now, I swear to fucking God."

"Yes… yes," Castiel murmurs.

"Keep your hand away," Dean orders. Castiel moves his right hand down to the exercise mat. "You wondered if it'd be rough or not? Not at first. There are certain things you gotta be gentle about."

"Like what?"

"Like opening you up while I've got your dick in my mouth."

"Oh, God."

"I'd definitely take that part slow, getting my fingers slick, prying you open- ah, ah, keep your hand down, Cas."

Castiel didn't even realize he'd started moving his hand. He sets it back down on the exercise mat. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's okay, you're fine," Dean says soothingly. The vibrations of sound in his ear make Castiel feel like he can almost feel Dean's breath on him. He whines.

"Keep going, Dean. Keep talking."

"Keep talking about what, Cas? About how I'd keep sucking your dick until I had you nice, wet, and loose? Maybe lick you open a little?"

"Dean, _oh,_ " Castiel whimpers. He wants to touch himself so badly, to open his eyes. He's aching, almost dizzy with the arousal.

"Or maybe, maybe you'd want to do that to me, huh Cas? Would you rather open me up instead? I'd let you. I'd let you in a fucking heartbeat. Let you work me open, get on my hands and knees so you could slick yourself up and shove inside of me."

"Fuck… fuck, Dean, please," Castiel begs.

"I bet you could make me scream. I bet you'd give it to me real good."

"Fuck."

"Touch yourself, Cas," Dean growls, "touch yourself right fucking now."

Castiel grabs his dick, and the relief is stunning.

"Move your hand, and keep thinking about me, how tight, and warm I'd be inside," Dean says. Castiel's hand drags up and down rapidly, the wet sounds of flesh and Castiel's quiet chanting of Dean's name filling the shed. "I want you to come for me, Cas. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, I'm going to. I'm going to come, _Dean_."

"Yes, fucking do it, come on, _Castiel_."

Three things happen as Castiel trips over the edge of his orgasm; he cries out Dean's name, he opens his eyes to lock gazes with Dean, and he realizes he can feel Dean holding his left hand.


	12. Touch

Castiel and Dean stare at their joined hands, stunned. Castiel's breathing is still labored, and the cold is starting to seep into his skin. He wants to tuck himself back in his pants, but he doesn't want to break whatever spell is happening here. He's afraid to even speak.

Dean isn't warm, or cold, but he's solid.

Deans fingers slowly move from Castiel's hand over to his sleeve, and the fabric moves where he touches it while Castiel watches, transfixed. With his other hand, Dean reaches for an old jump rope sitting on the floor nearby, but his hand goes through it, so he puts both hands on Castiel.

"Holy shit," Dean finally says.

"Can you… feel this?"

"Yeah… I mean it's… muted? I think that's a good word for it. It's all fuzzy, this is so hard to explain."

"Have we always been able to do this?"

"I… fuck. Maybe? I've tried and failed to touch you before, but it was a long time ago, it was before you could see me," Dean says. He pauses, staring off at nothing suddenly.

"Dean?"

"A nurse just noticed my heartrate is up. They're checking my vitals," Dean says. After a moment, he grins. "That homophobic nurse just asked an intern out on a date. She shot him down and told him to pay attention to his job like a professional. Awesome." Dean turns his focus back to Castiel, smiling at his hands. "I should have tried this sooner. I just figured it wouldn't work, and I'd get sad, or you'd get sad, so I didn't bother. This is so weird, Cas. I can feel it, but at the same time I _can't_ feel it. I don't have blood, or nerves, or anything like that. This doesn't make sense. I don't have sweat, or tears, or even semen."

"Dean!"

"You're awfully prim for a guy with his dick out, Cas," Dean says nonchalantly. Castiel flushes, wiping his messy hand against his boxers with a grimace, and tucking himself away. Dean wipes a stray bit of come away from Castiel's stomach, then sucks his finger clean. Castiel stares with his mouth hanging open.

"Damn," Dean mutters, "no taste buds either. Or saliva. Guess that rules out giving you a blowjob or a rimjob."

Castiel is thoroughly scandalized. " _Dean_!"

"What? That would have been awesome."

"It's interesting that even without the biological aspect of a libido, you still always think of sex."

"Ain't it great?" Dean says. Castiel lunges at him then, bringing their mouths together. Dean's mouth isn't warm or wet, but Castiel doesn't care. It's solid. It's still _Dean_ he's kissing. It doesn't make any sense, none of this makes any sense, but Castiel would rather have this than be with anyone else.

Dean pulls away suddenly. "I think this was too much for me. I'm feeling that… thing I sometimes feel before I go poof." Dean pouts, and it's so adorable that for a moment Castiel forgets to be sad that Dean is about to disappear.

"I wish…" Castiel says softly, not knowing how to complete the sentence.

"I know it's scary when I'm just gone, and I wish I could make it not happen, but try not to be sad because of me, okay? Whether I'm here with you, or stalking Sammy, or taking a ghost nap, I want you to be happy," Dean says sincerely. He cups Castiel's cheek, then with a sigh, he disappears.

Castiel is alone again, but it certainly hurts less than it did a few hours ago.

He lies in bed when he gets home, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he and Dean can touch, that Dean wants him, and reconciling the Dean he sees at school with the one he saw in that hospital bed. There's no logic behind this, any of this. He shouldn't be able to see Dean, Dean is in a coma. He shouldn't be able to _feel_ him, because there's nothing to feel.

By the time Castiel falls asleep, he's given himself a headache trying to suss it all out.

 

***

 

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving rolls around, and Castiel hasn't seen Dean for eight days, but he tries not to freak out. It led to an amazing moment, but all the crying he did last week was pretty embarrassing for him. He has another episode of Dr. Sexy on his laptop, bringing the total to three. There's no new episode tomorrow though, the television listings website he checked said there would be holiday programming on. He plans on coming to the school with his laptop over the long weekend and seeing if he can find Dean so that they can catch up on the episodes.

Sometimes over the past few days, Castiel has paused what he's doing and written little notes to Dean, just in case he's around to see them. _I miss you,_ or _I hope you're doing well_ , just something for Dean to know Castiel is thinking about him. He feels a little silly, but he figures if Dean doesn't see it, it doesn't matter, and if he _does_ see it, maybe he'll be happy to know he's on Castiel's mind.

It's nearing the end of the day, Castiel is in his sixth period AP Art History class. Ms. Barnes is talking animatedly about something, but Castiel's mind is on his family for the moment. His parents should be home by the time he gets back, and his brother Michael and sister-in-law Anna are arriving tomorrow morning so the family can spend the day together. Castiel has an odd relationship with Michael. Michael was always a perfect student, and now has a high-paying job and a lovely wife, and basically seems to have it all figured out. Castiel has always wanted Michael's approval and rarely gained it. Intellectually, Castiel knows that he wants Michael's approval the most _because_ it's so hard to get. But emotionally, he's perpetually ten years old, and showing Michael his B+ book report, hanging his head when Michael says Castiel could have done better. Castiel's parents are always proud of his efforts, and Gabriel is encouraging as well, but Michael has always had an attitude of "is this your best work?" that makes Castiel feel small. He's not looking forward to feeling that way again tomorrow. He knows Michael will inquire about Castiel's grades, and Castiel will have no exemplary scores to brag about. He does well in his classes, but he's not the best.

Castiel is, however, looking forward to devouring the homemade culinary delights Gabriel will be serving. Gabriel is stuck cooking someone else's menu at the restaurant week after week, so on holidays he's usually excited to go nuts and plan the menu himself.

He's mentally eating a second helping of Gabriel's macaroni and cheese when Castiel realizes someone is crouched next to his desk. He bites his lip, trying not to grin too much when he realizes it's Dean. He turns his head slightly in Dean's direction, and Dean's face lights up when they make eye contact.

"Finally," Dean says, "I hate when you can't see me."

Castiel wishes he could say something, but he's still in class. He turns to a fresh page in his notebook, and writes.

_**Hello, Dean.** _

Dean grins. "Hey, Cas. I got your uh… messages."

Castiel blushes. _**I don't know whether to be pleased or mortified.**_

"Go with pleased. I thought it was sweet."

_**I have three episodes of your show waiting on my laptop at home.** _

"Our show," Dean insists, " _our_ show."

_**If I can get away tonight, I'll bring my laptop here so we can watch.** _

"Get away?"

_**Gabriel intends to rope me into helping with Thanksgiving prep work, I'm sure.** _

"Does he make you wear an apron?"

_**I actually wear one voluntarily. I rarely cook, and I make a mess when I do.** _

Dean starts laughing. Castiel almost moves to shush him before he remembers no one else can hear Dean. The thought makes him a little sad.

"Cas?"

_**Just sad about the situation. Nothing new.** _

Dean hums, then stands up. He wraps his hands around Castiel, carding his fingers through Castiel's hair. Castiel lets out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

"I wonder what other people see while I'm doing this," Dean muses, "I mean, I'm moving your hair around, can they see that?"

Castiel smiles at the idea of someone looking over and seeing his hair moving around of its own volition.

_**It's an interesting thought.** _

Dean kisses the top of Castiel's hair, then makes his way down the side of Castiel's face, trailing kisses along the way. Castiel shudders. His handwriting is considerably less legible when he writes his next message.

_**I am begging you not to give me an erection in the middle of class.** _

"That _would_ be pretty cruel, wouldn't it? I'm going to let you actually pay attention to class now, I've seen what a big slut you are for school, I don't want to make you miss anything," Dean murmurs, kissing Castiel's cheek. He leans in front of Castiel, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before moving away and vanishing through the back side wall.

Castiel wonders if he could maybe get used to having a ghost boyfriend.

After class, Balthazar comes up to Castiel's desk. "Everything okay?"

Castiel looks up at him, puzzled. "What? Why?"

"I looked over earlier, you looked kind of flushed, and your eyes were closed, I was worried you might be ill? Maybe in pain?" Balthazar says, looking Castiel over. He's probably checking for new bruises.

"Oh. Uh, I was just… daydreaming," Castiel says awkwardly.

Balthazar gives him a lascivious grin at that. "A _good_ daydream, I take it? Ms. Barnes _did_ look amazing in those leather pants."

"This is awkward, Balthazar."

"You need to relax more, chums talk about this sort of thing."

"I _did_ relax."

"You mean watching a movie in your underwear a few weeks ago? Relaxation is a continuous enterprise, Cassie. You can't do one laid back thing and expect it to change anything, you silly nit." Balthazar looks over at the clock and sighs. "Well, I'm off to last period, then home to prepare for the trip to my aunt's in the morning. Ugh. I don't even _care_ about American Thanksgiving, why must I be dragged along?" Balthazar continues complaining, even after he's walked away to exit the room.

Castiel heads for his Latin class, glad that he's not the only one feeling a few less than enthusiastic thoughts about seeing some of his family. 


	13. Guests

Castiel's heart sinks as he gets close to his house, slowing his pedaling. Gabriel's car isn't there, which he expected. His brother is pulling an afternoon shift today instead of his usual evening hours so he can get home to start some of the Thanksgiving prep work this evening. What Castiel _hadn't_ expected was to see Michael's car parked in front of the house instead.

Castiel isn't prepared for this. His room isn't cleaned, and he hasn't thought about what to say about how school is, or how to respond if Michael asks if he's dating yet. The car his parents use isn't by the house either, which means it will be up to Castiel to make conversation. He stands on the sidewalk, clutching his bike and feeling some amount of panic. He debates just leaving, but Michael and Anna have to be expecting him. He hates this odd fear he's feeling. It's not like Michael is going to to beat him the second he walks in the house, he's just so afraid of disappointing him, like he always manages to do.

He's still mulling over his options when the curtain at the front window moves to the side, and Michael's confused face peers out at him. Castiel mutters a curse under his breath as Michael moves from the window and opens the front door.

"Castiel? What are you doing?"

"I… I forgot something at school," Castiel says, "I was trying to decide if I need it over the weekend or not." Castiel pushes his bike into the open garage, and heads over to Michael. "I think I'll be fine without it."

"Are you sure? I can drive you over before the building is shut tight for the weekend," Michael says.

"Thank you, but I'm sure. It's just an extra assignment, nothing of import."

Michael frowns. "You should do more than just the bare minimum of schoolwork, Castiel."

Castiel sighs. He's disappointed Michael already, and he isn't even in the house yet. He didn't even really leave an assignment at school. The extra credit assigned for the holiday weekend by some of his teachers is tucked safely in his backpack.

"Michael," a voice scolds from inside the house, "he isn't even in the door yet, what is the matter with you?" Castiel's sister-in-law comically shoves Michael out of the way, pulling Castiel into a hug and then dragging him inside. "Come on, come on. I hope you don't mind that we let ourselves in, we were told where to find the spare key. I promise I kept Michael from snooping while we were waiting."

Michael closes the door behind them. "I don't _snoop._ "

"Of course you don't," Anna says cheerfully.

Castiel has always been utterly baffled by the fact that his brother and Anna are married. Anna is passionate, flighty, and artistic, her personality as vibrant as her long red hair. She represents all sorts of things that Michael generally disapproves of. Michael is always stern, collected, severe. Castiel can't even recall the last time he saw his brother out of a suit, and even now his dark hair is slicked and gelled to perfection as though this were a business meeting. Castiel sometimes wonders just exactly how it is that the eldest son of the timid Chuck Shurley and the giggly Rebecca Rosen ended up a polished businessman.

"When I phoned Mother to inform her that we'd be arriving early, she told me they'd be back late, probably after midnight," Michael says.

Castiel's heart sinks again. "Why?"

"Father wanted to check out an alleged haunted house somewhere in Iowa, and drove them for four hours in the wrong direction trying to find it. It threw their return trip off by several hours," Michael says, rolling his eyes. Castiel resists the urge to slap his forehead with his palm. That sounds _exactly_ like something his father would do.

"Anyway, come on! It's up to you to show us around the house, this is our first time here, remember?" Anna says excitedly.

Castiel nods. "I must warn you, we didn't expect you here tonight, we haven't cleaned up yet."

Anna just smiles and pushes Castiel forward so he can start the tour. She compliments the wall color and the decorations in the kitchen, but Michael is mostly silent. Gabriel's room looks like a bomb filled with clothing and candy wrappers went off. Castiel actually hasn't been in here in a few days, last time it didn't look quite so horrifying. There's a bra slung over Gabriel's dresser, which is incredibly odd because as far as Castiel knows, he's never brought a girl to this house. In comparison to Gabriel's disaster of a bedroom, his parents' room and his own room don't seem so untidy.

Castiel sets his backpack and coat down on his unmade bed as Anna and Michael inspect his bedroom.

"Just as I thought, not a single poster on the walls. This room needs some color! Lucky for you, I have just the thing," Anna says. She snatches a set of keys out of Michael's pants pocket and disappears out the door in a flurry of red hair.

Castiel looks over at Michael, trying to think of something to say.

Michael is the first to speak. "You're taller than you were last time I saw you. When was that? Easter?"

"Uh… yes, yes I believe so," Castiel says. Michael hums in reply. As often is the case, Castiel feels more like he's talking to an estranged father than a brother. Michael feigns interest in the stack of books on Castiel's desk, inspecting the titles. Castiel feels very tense. He has to stop himself from loudly breathing a sigh of relief when Anna comes bounding back into the room.

She's holding a large canvas, the back of it facing Castiel. "I painted this… oh, maybe two months ago? I couldn't bring myself to sell it for some reason, and then last week it dawned on me that I was saving it to give to you, I just hadn't realized it."

Anna turns the canvas toward Castiel. The painting is of a dove, flying over a large and endless body of water. On the right side of the painting, in the direction the dove is flying, the sky is filled with fluffy white clouds, rays of sun, and patches of blue sky. On the left side, the sky is dark, gray, and stormy. There are lightning bolts and thin strands of rain painted on. The painting leaves Castiel stunned. It's beautiful.

"Anna…" Castiel mutters.

"I hope you like it, Castiel. I really feel like it belongs with you. I know you're at a tough age, at least.. it was tough for me, and I want you to have this as a reminder that there is always hope, always sunlight on the horizon."

Castiel's eyes water. Anna hands the painting to Michael, and wraps her arms around Castiel.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Anna."

 

***

 

The next hour is spent digging through boxes in the garage for the family's toolbox, then finding the best spot in Castiel's room for the painting. Castiel chooses a spot next to his doorway, so he can see the painting when he wakes up and before he leaves every morning. He gets Anna to take a photo of the painting on her phone and send it to his e-mail. He says he wants to show it to a friend at school, leaving out the part where the "friend" is his ghost boyfriend.

After the painting is sorted out, the three of them sit in the living room, with Anna discussing her Halloween art show, and what a hit it had been for her friend's art gallery. After her tale is over, Michael turns to Castiel.

"So, Castiel," he says, "how are your studies going?"

Castiel's heart sinks. Here they go. "They're going well, very good marks in Latin, AP European History, and AP Art History courses."

"And your other classes?"

"I'm… not as well off in Biology or my Probability and Statistics classes. AP English Literature is going fairly well. I'm passing everything."

"So what's the problem with your Biology and Statistics classes? Are you finding the work too difficult?" Michael asks, trying and failing to come off as nonchalant. Anna sighs, and Michael shoots her a small glare before looking back to Castiel.

"I'm pulling acceptable grades in all my classes, I'm just… not excelling in some of them. I simply have more of a mind for history and languages than I do for science and numbers," Castiel says, staring at his knees.

Michael tuts. "Universities might want more than _acceptable,_ Castiel. The best schools are all about perfection, extracurriculars, that sort of thing. Time is running out to make a good impression."

"I'm not worried about going to the best school," Castiel mutters.

Anna's phone starts ringing as Michael opens his mouth to reply. She apologizes, and all but runs from the room to take her call.

"Why wouldn't you be worried about going to the best school?" Michael demands.

"I might stay in Kansas for college," Castiel says. He's never been anxious to strike out on his own, get away from the family, the way Michael did. He has but a fraction of Michael's ambition, and Castiel would be perfectly fine working towards some sort of teaching degree here in Kansas and writing on the side. Beyond that, and he can barely admit this even to himself, he's in no rush to leave Kansas if there's only one place in the world he can go if he wants to talk to Dean.

"Look, I'm not saying KU isn't a good school, but there are better places to go. I can't say I approve of your plans to major in mythology, or theology, or languages, but there are definitely schools with better programs, and I _know_ Mother and Father have saved plenty for your tuition."

"I'm not in a hurry, Michael. Some people even take a year off before college," Castiel says. He feels ridiculous, like he's asking his distant brother for _permission_ when Michael has no say in anything Castiel does.

"Yes, people who plan to do some traveling, or to get a job to save for tuition. Do you _plan_ on traveling?"

"No."

"And you don't need to save for tuition. So why would you take a year off? Is this about a girl?"

Castiel sighs. "No."

Castiel looks up and finds himself locked in an uncomfortable stare with his brother, so he averts his eyes to the floor. He realizes he doesn't really know Michael's stance on homosexuality, but since Michael is the only member of the family that attends church, he's a little less hopeful.

"A boy, then?" Michael asks slowly.

Castiel jumps to his feet. "Damn it, Michael! Why are you always questioning everything about me?"

Michael's posture is irritatingly calm in response. "Should I be taking that as a yes?" Castiel glares at the floor. "Are you sure homosexuality is a wise choice, Castiel?"

"It's not a _choice,_ " Castiel hisses.

"If you say so," Michael says dismissively.

"It's just how I was made."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"

Castiel picks up an empty candy dish from the coffee table and hurls it at the wall. Michael's composure finally slips into something more alarmed.

"You're always making me feel like there's something wrong with me," Castiel shouts, "because I don't want to work in business when I'm older, because I'm not the top student in all my classes, because I'm _gay._ But there's nothing wrong with me, Michael. There's nothing wrong with who I am. There's something wrong with _you._ "

Michael stares. Castiel hears applause then, and turns to see Gabriel standing in the doorway, still in his work clothes, grocery bags at his feet.

"Encore!" Gabriel cheers.

Michael glares at Gabriel. "You'll make a joke of _anything,_ won't you?"

"Who was joking? That was a thing of beauty. It's about time you stop treating Cas like a disappointing lump of clay that refuses to be molded," Gabriel says, crossing his arms and leveling Michael with a hard look.

"Just because _you_ have no ambition, Gabriel…"

Castiel turns and storms up to his room. He's had enough of this conversation. He dumps his backpack out and stuffs his laptop inside, then grabs his heavy coat out of the closet. He pauses on his way out the door, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Anna's painting before rushing downstairs and past his still arguing brothers, and slamming his way outside.

Anna is leaning against Michael's car, but Castiel heads straight for the garage to pull out his bike. She steps in his way.

"Don't forget about the painting, Castiel. You're having a dark moment now, but a bright moment is just on the horizon," she says gently. Castiel really likes Anna, a lot more than he likes his brother right now.

"Thank you, Anna," Castiel says, offering her a smile. She reaches over and ruffles Castiel's hair, then steps to the side to let him go by.

Castiel heads for the high school, chasing that brighter moment on the horizon.


	14. A Brighter Moment

Castiel wanders around the school's exterior, calling out for Dean. They need to work out a better system than this. When he gets to the supply shed he pauses, blushing as he thinks about what he did in there quite recently.

He's startled when he feels his backpack being yanked off, he didn't hear anyone coming. For a moment he's scared that Alastair is coming after him again, but then he's shoved up against the door to the shed by something… invisible.

"D-Dean?" Castiel whispers.

There's a growl near his ear. "Get in the shed, Cas."

Castiel practically trips over himself in his haste to grab his bag and get inside. He's disappointed when he pushes and pushes on the door and it won't open. He finally remembers to _pull_ and steps inside, relishing the chuckle he hears from Dean. The light in the shed is on like last time, but Castiel still can't see Dean. He sets his bag down and closes the door.

He's shoved against the door again, and an invisible but familiar pair of lips press against his own.

"Welcome back," Dean mutters. Dean's hands are fisted in Castiel's hair, and Castiel closes his eyes to stop getting distracted by the fact that he can feel what's happening but not see it. Dean growls again, shoving a leg between Castiel's, prying his feet apart. "Eyes open, I want you to see something."

Castiel obeys, opening his eyes and glancing around the shed. He doesn't know what Dean wants him to see. He feels Dean's thigh pressing up against his rapidly filling erection and makes a pleased hum that devolves into a hysterical moan at the feel of teeth nipping and tugging at the sensitive flesh of his neck.

"Alright, now watch," Dean says.

"Watch wh-" Castiel gasps when Dean starts undoing his belt. He watches in fascination as the belt seems to unbuckle of its own volition, then the button of his khakis, then the zipper. Dean's hand worms its way into Castiel's boxers, grabbing hold of the hard flesh inside and giving a teasing squeeze.

"Keep watching," Dean whispers, dragging his hand up and down Castiel's erection. As more of Castiel's precome transfers onto Dean's hand, the tugs get wetter, and Castiel's moans get louder. After a moment, Dean slowly becomes visible before Castiel's eyes. As fun as it was being ravaged by an invisible hand, Castiel is glad to see Dean, and his wide, excited eyes.

"Hey," Dean whispers.

"Dean."

"Damn, you're making a mess of my hand," Dean says with a smile.

"Can… can… ohhh.."

Dean is still stroking Castiel while they talk, and Castiel is having trouble focusing. Dean slows his strokes, obviously waiting for Castiel to continue as he looks at him expectantly.

"Can I…?"

"Your hand," Castiel pants, "can you feel it?"

"Oh. Yeah, a little. Far as I can tell I can touch and feel things that are touching you, or are a part of you. Which is… odd. But cool. I wish I could feel more though, you're so fucking wet right now, Cas."

"I noticed," Castiel mutters.

Dean rubs his thumb against the head of Castiel's dick, spreading the fluid around. He leans in to lay more kisses and bites along Castiel's neck.

"I could do so much more if I had my own saliva, just so you know," Dean says. He bites down hard and Castiel gasps, more precome leaking from his erection.

"I think you… oh… oh God…. I know I don't have much to compare to, but this is… this is so good, Dean, _yes._ "

Dean swipes his left hand through the warm slick mess on his right then crowds up against Castiel, working a hand behind him. Castiel's breath speeds up in anticipation. He can already feel the electricity of his impending orgasm dancing through his body. It feels so intense he could almost cry.

"Oh god, I'm close, I'm fucking close," Castiel says, a little surprised at his own swearing.

"Yeah?" Dean says with a grin.

"Yes, oh fucking hell, yes."

"I love it when you swear," Dean says. Castiel whines as Dean presses his slick finger against Castiel's hole. Dean's other hand loses some of its rhythm as he focuses on wriggling his finger inside. It's a little uncomfortable, but Castiel mostly likes it. After Dean's worked his finger in a fair amount, he starts moving his other hand again, stroking Castiel a little faster than before.

"Oh fuck," Castiel's going to die. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Shit, I love you like this. I kind of want to stop, drag it out, make you beg," Dean says, nipping at Castiel's ear.

"Oh God no, I'm so close, Dean," Castiel begs. He whines as Dean pulls his hands away. "Oh fuck, please, please don't _stop._ "

"I'm not, baby, I'm not," Dean murmurs, and Castiel shudders pleasantly at the affectionate term. Dean manhandles Castiel over to the exercise mat, still where Castiel left it the other day, then pushes him onto his back. Castiel stares glassy-eyed at the ceiling while Dean pulls off his shoes, khakis, and underwear, lifting his hips when necessary but otherwise not helping. Dean looks Castiel over and snickers before pulling his socks off as well.

"It's cold, you know," Castiel says.

Dean smirks, eyes going to Castiel's dick. "Doesn't seem to be having a negative impact so far." He palms Castiel's legs apart and Castiel's heart nearly jumps into his throat. Dean holds his right hand up to Castiel's mouth while the left collects more of the precome that's gathered at the head of Castiel's erection. "Lick."

Castiel obeys immediately, getting Dean's hand as wet as he can. Dean's left hand creeps back to Castiel's hole and a finger pushes inside. Castiel nearly sobs.

Dean pauses, pulling his hand away. He lifts Castiel's right leg over his shoulder and moves his hand back again, teasing Castiel's rim and pushing a finger back in up to the first knuckle. He uses his saliva-slicked right hand to grip Castiel's cock, immediately moving into a steady pace which is temporarily lost when Castiel fists both hands in Dean's hair and pulls him in for a kiss.

"There's just so much more I could do if I had my own spit," Dean says mournfully.

Castiel narrows his eyes. "You need to stop talking about saliva so much, honestly."

Dean twists his middle finger inside Castiel, making him yelp at the unexpected stretch.

"Don't suppose you carry around lube in that backpack," Dean says, looking over at the bag.

"Shockingly, no. Wait. Lotion. Lotion, I have lotion in the front pocket," Castiel says. Dean pulls his hands away again and looks at Castiel. Castiel stares back. "What?"

"You're not wearing the bag."

"Yeah?" Castiel replies. He's not sure why they're talking about this when Dean's hands could be on and in him.

" _So,_ I can't touch the bag. Get off your ass and get the lotion, man!"

"So complicated," Castiel grouses. He makes his way to his backpack, feeling self conscious about the fact that he's naked from the waist down. He decides he cares more about having an orgasm than he does about how he looks though, so he crouches down and digs through his bag. He holds up a trial-size bottle of lotion triumphantly after a few seconds, then rushes to get back into position.

Dean looks at the bottle. "So, how…"

Castiel frowns, then immediately smiles when the idea hits him. He squirts some of the lotion onto his thigh, flinching when it's unexpectedly cold.

"Eager, huh?" Dean says.

"I've had a trying afternoon, and I have a feeling this will relax me greatly," Castiel replies. Dean looks for a moment like he wants to ask about Castiel's day, and Castiel is relieved when instead he just swipes his hand through the lotion on Castiel's thigh. Dean's hand wraps back around Castiel's dick and Castiel lets out a soft moan, letting his eyes fall closed while the two of them settle back into the same position as before, Castiel's leg over Dean's shoulder, hands clutching the mat.

Dean works two fingers back inside of Castiel, the lotion easing the way considerably. Castiel is panting and writhing in no time, that electric feeling building up again. He feels lightheaded, his erection is genuinely aching, and it feels amazing. Dean pushes his fingers in far so he can rub at Castiel's prostate, jacking Castiel rapidly with his other hand.

"Oh Dean, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm so close, this feels so fucking good," Castiel babbles, staring at the pleased look on Dean's face. Dean grins wide at Castiel's words, and Castiel remembers what Dean had said about loving it when Castiel swears. "Fuck, I'm so fucking close. I don't know how I haven't come yet, fuck. Fuck, Dean, more, I'm gonna come."

Dean moves both hands faster and leans forward, biting down hard on Castiel's neck. Castiel _howls,_ warm jets of come jumping out onto his shirt as he clenches around Dean's gyrating fingers.

Dean slows his hands after a moment then stops, while Castiel lies staring into space, heaving large breaths, slowly coming down. He looks over at a very smug Dean and rolls his eyes.

"Pride is a sin, you know," Castiel chides.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure some would say the same thing about a guy getting finger-fucked by a male ghost."

Castiel's laugh is a little breathless. Dean looks at his hands and ignores the indignant squawk Castiel makes when he uses Castiel's shirt to wipe them off.

Castiel feels a little ridiculous lying here, wearing a jacket and a soiled shirt with nothing on below his waist, so he rolls over and grabs his boxers off the floor. Dean smiles, waiting until Castiel's pulled the boxers on before crawling on top of him and planting small kisses all over his face.

"So," Dean says easily, "what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Wow. Castiel forgot he actually came here for something other than to come all over his clothes. "I got into an argument with my oldest brother, and decided I'd rather be here watching Dr. Sexy with you than at my house defending my sexuality and lukewarm academic ambition to him."

"Your sexuality, huh?"

"The attraction I feel to you, and felt… to a lesser degree… to Balthazar, I've not felt toward a woman. I am, for the time being, fairly certain that I am a homosexual."

Dean has an odd, lopsided and affectionate grin on his face. "You talk like a robot sometimes. Say beep, boop."

"No."

"After I gave you that _rockin'_ orgasm?"

Castiel smiles softly at Dean, then schools his face into a neutral expression. "Beep. Boop."

Dean wraps his arms around Castiel, pulling him close. Castiel breathes in deep through his nose, trying to find something of Dean to take in.

"Do I smell like anything?" Dean asks.

"No, just traces of my lotion, and maybe my come. I like that you smell like me, though. Makes you feel like you're mine," Castiel says sleepily. His eyes widen and he pulls back, staring at Dean. "Not that I… think that you're… I mean you're not _mine_."

Dean positions them so that they're lying on the exercise mat, facing each other.

"Cas," Dean says softly. Castiel buries his face in Dean's shoulder. He feels exposed, like he's revealed too much.

"I don't...I…" Castiel mutters.

"There's something you need to know. You need to know…" Dean takes a deep breath, or what passes for a deep breath with a ghost. "I don't know if I was ever going to tell you this, but you need to know that I've been in love with you since I used to watch you over the summer."

"Dean?" Castiel is almost too stunned to breathe.

"You were always just… ugh, I don't know. You had this _focus_ about you, and you're so smart. There was just something about you. That small smile you'd have when your study group would do those practice quizzes and you'd finish first. Or how attentive you'd be when one of your friends would stop to explain a joke that went over your head, like you weren't just indulging them; you really wanted to know what it meant. You'd make your own jokes sometimes, and everyone would always laugh so loud, because it was always so unexpected, and you'd look up all surprised but happy. Ugh, this is all so creepy, I know. And then without even knowing, you were doing what you could to protect Sam. _Sam,_ my most important person, because you thought it was the right thing to do. I _am_ yours, Cas. I've been yours for months."

Castiel doesn't even know how to begin to respond to that. To his own horror, he bursts into tears, clinging tightly to Dean.

"I'm yours too, Dean."

 

***

 

Castiel wakes with a start and a shiver. He's cold as hell, but Dean's wrapped around him.

"Sorry man, can't actually warm you, and I also couldn't actually grab anything to put over you," Dean says, kissing the top of Castiel's head.

Castiel squeezes Dean. "As long as none of my body parts froze and fell off, I don't care." He hazards a look at an old watch he keeps in his coat pocket; just over half an hour until midnight. His parents might be home already. "Fuck, I need to head home. I'm sorry, I wanted us to watch Dr. Sexy, and instead all you got to do was watch me sleep."

"It's fine," Dean says with a grin, "your snores were fucking adorable."

A bit of embarrassed warmth floods Castiel's cheeks. He's achy and stiff as he pulls on his pants, socks, and shoes, but he feels calm.

Dean speaks up while Castiel is tying his shoelaces. "I don't totally know what went down with your brother, but if you come home and he offers you an olive branch, try to be the bigger man and take it, even if he doesn't deserve it. It's a holiday, so try to be thankful, even if he was a dickbag today."

Castiel frowns. "And if he doesn't offer an olive branch?"

"Then come here later and I'll finger your prostate some more," Dean says casually.

"Oh, God."

"I just go by Dean, actually," Dean says. He frowns after a moment. "I wish I could see my family, even if I had to do it as a ghost, I wish I could see them. Just float on over to the house. I could watch them talking and laughing and eating. We always had dinner at three on Thanksgiving, and I _always_ thought it was way too early. I miss that. I guess that's why I want you to make nice if it's possible. Because I can't." Dean smiles sadly. "I've got ghost guilt on my side, man."

"There's no defense against that," Castiel admits. He pulls his laptop out of his bag. "I want to show you something before I go." He powers up the laptop, opening his downloads folder.

Dean sits next to him, peering at the screen. "That file is labeled Bal-dicks.jpg. Dare I ask?"

Castiel smirks and opens the image file. It's the photo Gabriel took of Balthazar when he was covered in penis drawings.

Dean's laughter is hysterical. "Is that what you wanted to show me?! Because that was _awesome_."

"I'm afraid it was something a little less phallic. My sister-in-law brought me one of her paintings today, I wanted to show you," Castiel says, opening the photo of the painting. Dean looks at it contemplatively. "She wanted me to keep this in mind, and I want you to do the same. There's always the chance, the hope, for something brighter down the road. There's hope that next year you'll be with your family on Thanksgiving."

"I hope so," Dean says quietly. "Fuck, I miss my mom's apple pie. I always ate a _ton_ of it. I wanna have that again. But yeah. Maybe next year." Dean smiles at Castiel. "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel nods, putting his laptop away. When he looks back up, Dean is gone. He sighs, getting up and walking for the door.

"I love you Dean," Castiel whispers to the empty room.

"I love you too, Cas. Now go home."

Castiel is so startled he trips and has to catch himself on the door handle. Dean's responding laughter keeps him smiling the whole way home.


	15. Not an Olive Branch

Castiel's parents' car is in the driveway when he reaches his house. He wonders how Gabriel and Michael got along in his absence, wonders what was said about why Castiel wasn't home.

The porch light is on, but the front door is locked, so Castiel assumes everyone has gone to sleep. He's thankful to find his keys in his coat pocket, he didn't want to have to wake everyone demanding to be let inside. He locks his bike in the garage and then quietly makes his way into the house and up to his room.

He sighs as he closes the door. He slept for a few hours with Dean and yet he's exhausted. Sleeping on an uncomfortable exercise mat and then biking home will do that, he's sure. He doesn't bother flipping on the lights or getting undressed, just pries his shoes off and flings his jacket on the floor before he flops down onto his bed, panicking when a pair of arms wrap around him and squeeze.

"Kaliiiii, be a lil' more careful, baby!" Gabriel's voice.

Castiel struggles to get out of his brother's grip. He forgot that Gabriel would be bunking with him while Michael and Anna were here. Gabriel nuzzles at Castiel's hair, and Castiel is ready for the earth to open up and swallow him.

"No kiss for me, babe?" Gabriel murmurs.

"No," Castiel grouses, "no kiss."

Gabriel abruptly stops moving, his grip loosening. "Cas?"

"This is a truly _awful_ moment in my life."

"Well, this is punishment for running off when you were supposed to be my prep cook tonight," Gabriel reasons.

"Are you implying that you were awake, and intentionally snuggling against me as some sort of revenge?"

"That'd be creepy, huh."

"Goodnight, Gabriel."

"Hey, come on," Gabriel says, shifting to the side to make room for Castiel. "Look, I just want to know two things. Where did you go tonight, and do you want to be the little spoon?"

"I went for a bike ride, and please don't spoon me."

"Prude."

Castiel has to stop himself from laughing at that notion. There's no need for Gabriel to know that he's now had two orgasms in a supply shed on school property.

"So, just a bike ride?" Gabriel asks suspiciously. "Because you were gone for hours."

"Well, I'm back now."

"Just tell me you weren't off getting deflowered by Balthazar."

Castiel snorts. "I assure you, I was not doing _anything_ with Balthazar."

"Good, he's just really not the sweet, tender kind of guy a young man wants for his first time."

"I can't even begin to explain how much I don't want to be having this conversation with you, Gabriel."

"You're no fun."

"You have a disturbing definition of fun."

Castiel endures a brief pillow assault from his brother before they both arrange themselves comfortably under Castiel's blanket. It's comforting in a way, it makes Castiel feel like a small child again.

"I'm glad you have a queen-sized bed," Gabriel says, "I'd hate to end up spooning you on a twin mattress."

"Why do you keep talking about us spooning?! Besides, if I had a twin mattress, you'd be sleeping on the _floor._ "

"That's not very nice."

"Neither is this sudden preoccupation with incest you seem to have developed. Perhaps I should speak to our parents in the morning about getting you into counseling," Castiel muses. This time Castiel fights back when Gabriel starts pummeling him with a pillow, barking about Castiel making his innocent joke seem weird. They settle down again after a few minutes.

"I'm proud of you, Cas," Gabriel says, tone serious. "For standing up to Michael like you did. He's been looking down his nose at this entire family for years, and no one ever calls him on it. Not even me. You were right, Cas, there's nothing wrong with who you are. Michael wanted you to be a copy of him, and I'm thankful as shit that he didn't get what he wanted."

"Shouldn't you be saving this for when we say what we're thankful for at dinner tomorrow?" Castiel replies. Gabriel bursts into laughter so loud, their father eventually has to sleepily barge in and beg them to quiet down.

 

***

 

Castiel feels like he's just fallen asleep when Gabriel is dragging him out of bed at eight the next morning to help him cook breakfast. Castiel groans that he wants more sleep, but Gabriel just tells him this is how he can repay the apparent debt he owes for coming home late.

Castiel indulges his brother, following his every instruction to make scrambled eggs, french toast, and bacon for the family. It's fun, bustling around the kitchen while Gabriel leans against the kitchen counter and barks out orders and jokes. Gabriel is obviously pleased with Castiel's work, and Castiel feels wonderful at having a brother actually be proud of him. He wonders if that makes him pathetic.

Gabriel tells Castiel to fetch the family while he sets the table, and Castiel hurries upstairs. He almost never cooks anything that isn't a sandwich or a microwave dinner, so he's anxious to try a real meal that he made himself.

He comes to a halt when he reaches his parents' bedroom and realizes he can hear Michael's angry voice from inside.

"I don't understand how you're not worried about this," Michael is hissing.

"Worried about _what,_ exactly?" Castiel's mother is using her no-nonsense tone that doesn't come out very often and makes Castiel very nervous.

"About Castiel! About his… _lifestyle choices,_ " Michael practically spits the phrase out.

"Oh for the love of God," Becky says, "have you ever read any of my books, Michael? Did you _really_ expect me to take _your_ side with this?"

"Castiel is a good boy, Michael," Castiel hears Chuck say quietly.

"He's _gay!_ " Michael barks. "He thinks he's gay!"

"There's nothing wrong with him," Becky snaps back. "There's nothing wrong with being gay."

"It goes against-"

"Stop. _Stop._ I know you took to religion in a way the rest of us never did, and I don't begrudge you that, because you are my son, and if faith in God brings you peace, that's great. But I don't share your beliefs, Michael."

"Mother…"

"I _don't share your beliefs_ , and I won't have you spouting off any homophobic nonsense, especially around Castiel. He's always looked up to you and he deserves your _love,_ not your hate. I can't change your mind about homosexuality. It saddens me, but I accept that. But I expect you to accept that _we're_ okay with it," Becky says.

Michael sighs, loudly. "What about you, Father?"

"Me too, Michael. I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but if you can't keep the homophobia to yourself, we need you to go."

Castiel doesn't listen for Michael's reply, he's stunned. He can't remember the last time he heard his parents sounding so stern. His mother is always giggling and bubbly, and his father is always awkward and nervous. They sounded so severe and sure.

Castiel turns to walk away and sees Anna. He wonders how long she's been standing there. Her hand is over her mouth, and there are tears in her eyes. When they make eye contact, she turns and runs back to Gabriel's room. He debates going after her. The conversation in the room is still going, but he wants to try to comfort his sister-in-law if he can. After another few seconds, Castiel heads after Anna.

He finds her sitting on Gabriel's bed, her head in her hands.

"Are you… do you want to talk about it?" Castiel asks. He's not even entirely sure what she's upset about.

"I didn't know," Anna says into her hands. "I didn't know. I mean… I knew he was religious, we both are, but it's… I didn't know. He's my _husband_. I can't be married to someone that's homophobic, Castiel. I can't. My father's church accepted everyone. I was raised to accept and love _everyone_. What if we have children? What if he raises them to hate? God, shouldn't I have known this about my own husband?" Anna sounds so lost, and Castiel can't even imagine what this is like for her.

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"I took _vows._ And suddenly… I feel trapped by them. What is wrong with me that I'm already considering my options to get out of this marriage? What...what do I do?"

Castiel wants to tell Anna to leave Michael, that he never understood how they ended up together in the first place. He wants to tell her that while he loves his brother, he's fairly certain she can do better. He wants to tell her that he thinks marriage should be a tether, not a shackle. He wants to tell her that she's a wonderful and free spirit, and that a life with someone like Michael could someday start erasing that if it hasn't already.

Instead, he gives her a small smile and says, "I made breakfast, and if we leave it much longer, Gabriel might eat all our food."

Anna nods, standing up and sighing. As a small act of defiance, Anna chooses to wipe her tears on the expensive and clean looking suit jacket Michael left on top of his suitcase.

 

***

 

Breakfast is tense at best. Michael and his parents aren't really speaking to each other, Michael's ignoring Castiel, Anna keeps glaring at Michael, and Gabriel clearly has no idea where all the new tension came from.

"This is really good, Gabriel," Chuck says after a bite of his french toast.

"Actually," Gabriel says proudly, "it wasn't me. It was all Cassie-Bear."

Castiel tries not to look up when he realizes everyone is staring at him. "It's not _that_ interesting."

"I don't think I've ever even seen you use the stove!" Becky exclaims, impressed.

"Well, Gabriel told me how to do everything," Castiel mutters into his eggs. He's pleased, but the praise is making him feel a little on display.

"You took instruction _beautifully,_ " Gabriel says in an odd English accent.

"It's very tasty," Anna says, smiling.

"Glad to see you branching out from sandwiches and cereal, kiddo," Chuck adds.

"Gabriel is a surprisingly good teacher," Castiel muses.

"What do you mean _surprisingly_?" Gabriel whines. The conversation becomes a bit lighter for a moment, though Michael remains quiet, poking at his food with a contemplative frown. After a few minutes, Gabriel glares over at him.

"Are you seriously afraid to eat something because it was cooked by a big scary queer? Mom and Dad should have sent you to a better school," Gabriel growls, and just like that the tension is back.

"Gabriel…" Castiel sighs.

"I'm _sorry,_ " Gabriel says unconvincingly, "the guy is harshing my breakfast enjoyment."

"I am _trying_ to remain civil about this," Michael says.

Gabriel stands up angrily. "Well, try harder!"

Michael stands as well. "I'm sorry, Gabriel! My youngest brother reveals he's a… he's _gay_ , and everyone just expects me to be fine with it, when the Bible says—"

"Your interpretation of the Bible," Anna mumbles. Michael's head whips around to Anna. She gives him a defiant glare, stuffing a forkful of eggs in her mouth angrily.

"Excuse me?" Michael asks incredulously.

" _Your_ interpretation."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't believe homosexuality is a sin, Michael. I don't believe who Castiel was born as is a one-way ticket to damnation. You came to my family's church before my parents died, Michael! Sat in my father's services, and he never condemned homosexuality, and I… I thought we were on the same page about this!" Anna says all of this in between more bites of her breakfast. Castiel is concerned that she's going to make herself sick eating so fast.

"Well," Michael says, "I guess you should have asked. I know what I believe, and it's not about interpretation, it's about what is _written_."

"By human, _flawed_ men, hundreds of years ago!" Anna shouts.

"Can we please just eat?" Castiel begs.

"NO!" Anna and Michael both yell without looking at him. Castiel sighs and eats another bite of french toast.

"I'm not going to argue with you on this. I know what's right," Michael says.

"Well, so do I," Anna shoots back.

Michael rolls his eyes. "This is _ridiculous_."

Gabriel smacks Michael on the arm. " _You're_ being ridiculous. You're being a fool. You're being pathetic."

"You know, I've had just about enough of you." Michael hisses.

"I could say the same!" Gabriel says, glowering.

"Come on, Anna," Michael says, "we're leaving. This is enough."

"No, Michael," Anna says, shaking her head. "That's not what I want. Not now. I want to spend the day with family, it's Thanksgiving."

"They're _my_ family, not yours!" Michael yells, and Anna looks like she's been slapped.

The room is deathly silent for a long, agonizing moment before Castiel's mother starts shouting.

"Michael Tiberius Shurley!" Michael actually looks cowed by the absolutely terrifying amount of anger in Becky's voice. "I've had enough. You're going. You're going _now,_ and Anna is staying here. Get out of my house."

Michael glares at his mother before storming to Gabriel's room. Everyone sits, staring at the table awkwardly while they hear Michael slamming things around upstairs. After a couple of minutes, he comes stomping back down the stairs, slamming his way out the front door and into his car. A moment later, Castiel winces at the sound of screeching tires.

"Man," Gabriel mumbles, "way to steal Castiel's thunder after he made us all breakfast." Castiel shoots a glare at Gabriel. "Okay, yes, I'm the one that brought it up, fine. My bad. To show how sorry I am, I'll do the dishes. Go, watch the parade on TV or whatever."

"That sounds like a great idea, Gabriel," Chuck announces. "Everybody up!"

Everyone stands, heading for the living room while Gabriel starts clearing the dishes. They sit in the living room, watching the Thanksgiving parade in silence. It's uncomfortable.

Several minutes pass before Becky grabs the remote and mutes the television, turning to Anna. "Michael was wrong, Anna. We're your family whether he's around or not. If everything gets patched up and the two of you are back here at Christmas, know you belong here as much as he does. If you two break up, we're still your family. You've been my daughter for three years now, Anna, that doesn't change just because _Michael_ says so."

Anna bursts into tears, accepting a hug from Becky.

After a few minutes, Castiel speaks. "Can you come with me a moment, Anna?"

Anna nods, wiping her eyes and standing. Castiel leads her to his room. When they get inside, Castiel turns Anna to face the painting she gave him.

"Ah…" Anna says softly.

"Don't forget, okay? What this painting represents, I haven't forgotten, I don't want you to either."

Castiel clasps Anna's nearest hand, lacing their fingers together. They stare at the painting of the dove together for a long time.


	16. Another Family

Anna is designated as Gabriel's sous chef for the day in an obvious attempt at distraction, so Castiel spends his time watching television with his parents. He apologizes for breaking the candy dish yesterday, and his father thanks him for not throwing and breaking something more important, like the remote.

At some point in the afternoon, Gabriel plops down next to Castiel on the sofa. "Anna's taking a nap for a few, I'll wake her at three to baste the turkey."

"Maybe you should let her sleep until dinner, sweetheart," Becky says.

"Hey now, she _told_ me to wake her up! I'm not some heartless Thanksgiving slave driver, she wants to feel useful."

"And you're not having fun being the boss in the kitchen for once, I'm sure," Becky says with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm insulted, Ma. This is all about cheering up my sister," Gabriel says with a smirk. Becky just hums in reply.

Almost three in the afternoon? A thought dawns on Castiel. "Did you say it's almost three?"

"Yeah," Gabriel says, "it's around two-thirty."

"May I borrow your phone for about an hour?"

Gabriel narrows his eyes. "Do I want to ask?"

"You can," Castiel says, "but I won't tell you anyway."

Gabriel snickers. "I like you, Cas, you've got moxie." Gabriel goes to get his phone while Castiel runs to his room to look up an address on his laptop.

 

***

 

Forty minutes later, Castiel is on his bike, pulling up next to a mailbox that says "Winchester" in fancy lettering. He looks up at the house. It's not unlike his own. Two stories, muted green paint on the outside, white trim. There are quite a few vehicles in the driveway and in front of the house, there must be several people over for the day.

Castiel takes out Gabriel's phone, snapping a photo of the cars and the house. Every time he takes a photo, he e-mails it to himself and then deletes the evidence from the phone. Gabriel would definitely have questions if he found weird stalker-photos left on his phone.

He tries to keep himself small and inconspicuous as he moves closer to the house. He peeks into a window on the side, but all he sees is what looks like a sewing room. He feels incredibly creepy.

He makes his way to the back of the house and checks the first window he sees. Jackpot, the dining room. There's a large table at the center of the dining room, with several people seated at it. Most of the chairs match the table, but a few were obviously brought in from elsewhere in the house.

Castiel looks at the various people in the room. He recognizes Sam, of course, and Dean's parents from Dean's cover photo on his Facebook page, but he has no clue who the others are. He takes photos of everyone anyway, stopping every so often to e-mail the ones he's taken and erase them from the phone.

There's something at the head of the table, Castiel realizes, and he moves to another window to get a better look. He gasps, eyes tearing up. It's a framed photo of Dean, and Castiel would bet anything that the pie sitting in front of it is Dean's mother's apple pie. He chokes out a sob, snapping a photo. He brings up a video recording application on the phone and hits record, wanting to capture everyone in motion.

No one is eating yet, but the family is laughing and talking like any family. Every so often, one of them will shoot a pained glance over at the photo of Dean. It's heart breaking to watch. Castiel is about to stop recording when he sees everyone turn to someone he can't see, big smiles on their faces. He's surprised to see his Latin teacher walk into view, holding a massive turkey on a tray.

Castiel had no idea Mr. Singer was connected to the Winchesters, but he's clearly part of the family. Castiel keeps recording as Singer sets the turkey down in the center of the table, then has a seat himself. A young blonde woman stands, brandishing a carving knife. She looks close to Castiel's age. Her eyes are full of tears, but as she speaks, she gestures to the photo of Dean and twirls the knife in her hand and everyone smiles, with Dean's father laughing. The girl pauses, pointing at Dean's photo again before setting about carving the turkey.

Castiel knows he should stop recording and head home, but he's slightly transfixed. The carving girl puts one of the turkey legs on a plate, reaching over to set it next to the pie by Dean's photo. The other turkey leg she plates goes to Sam, who looks surprised but excited.

Dean's father is about to start eating when Sam stops him, saying something quickly. Everyone looks surprised, but they all join hands and close their eyes. Sam gives a small smile, and speaks again. Castiel doesn't have any idea what Sam says, but whatever it is makes everyone laugh so loudly that he can hear it outside. Dean's father gives Sam a hearty slap on the back, and everyone tucks into their food. Castiel decides it's a good time to stop, and ends the recording.

He crouches while he waits for the video to attach and send to his e-mail address. Now that he's not focused on anything, Castiel realizes he's actually pretty cold. The cold makes the file upload time seem eternal, but it finally finishes after a handful of minutes. He sends the file and clears the remaining evidence from Gabriel's phone.

Castiel stands, looking at Dean's family one last time before turning to leave.

It's unfortunate when his feet get tangled up in a previously unseen rake and Castiel falls, yelping far too loudly on his way down.

It's no surprise when the back door opens while he's struggling to his feet.

"Shurley? The hell are you doing here, boy?" Singer barks.

Castiel cringes as more people come out of the house to see what's going on. "M-Mr. Singer…"

Sam pokes his head out. "Castiel?"

Dean's father looks at Sam. "You know this kid, Sam?"

"Sure!" Sam says cheerfully. "That's Castiel, he goes to my school."

"Kid's my best Latin student," Singer adds. Castiel is quite surprised. "Why are you out back here yelling, kid?"

Castiel looks around nervously. He needs to come up with a lie. He picks Gabriel's phone up off the ground. "I was um… I got lost, on my bike… and I thought I should call my family to let them know I'd be late for dinner… but my phone isn't working. I thought I'd see if anyone was home in this house so I could use the phone, but I um… I looked in the window and you all seemed busy, so I thought it would be smarter to just go find a payphone. Then I tripped over a rake."

Singer narrows his eyes.

"Aw quit it, Uncle Bobby!" Sam says. "You're gonna scare him." Sam comes forward and grabs Castiel's hand, pulling him into the house. "You should've knocked, Castiel! We would've let you use the phone. Man, your hand is _cold_ , how long have you been outside?"

"I'm not sure… not long, I only left my house an hour or so ago. Just wanted to get some fresh air and uh, work off the calories from breakfast before I had my big dinner," Castiel says awkwardly. The people still seated at the table look over with raised eyebrows as Sam pulls Castiel through the room. They reach the living room, and Sam hands Castiel a cordless phone.

"Here you go!"

"Thank you, Sam," Castiel says. He feels ridiculous. Several people are watching him with polite interest as he dials his house, holding the phone to his ear.

Gabriel answers the phone. "Hello, G-Man's House of Tryptophan… G-Man speaking."

"Gabriel?"

"Cas? What's up?"

"I was just calling to say that I got a bit lost, but I'll be on my way home soon. Please don't feel like you need to postpone dinner on my account," Castiel says awkwardly.

"Dude, it's not even four yet," Gabriel says, sounding confused. This is stupid. Castiel is apologizing for being late to dinner, when he knows they won't be eating until after five. But he said he was late for dinner, so he has to keep this going.

"I'll be heading home in just a bit, I'm pretty sure I know my way back," Castiel says, nodding for no reason.

"Uh… okay? Wait, so why are you calling?"

"No, that's fine, you don't need to come pick me up."

"What in the hell are you talking about? Is this code or something? Are you being kidnapped? Cas, if you're being kidnapped, give me a sign. Say something… say… dragon-cake," Gabriel says, sounding unnerved.

"No."

"Don't freak me out like that!"

"That was in no way my intention."

"I do _not_ understand what is going on in this conversation. Did you call for a ride?"

"No, I'll just ride my bike."

"Then why are you calling?!"

"To tell you that I was lost, but that I'll be home in a while."

Gabriel sighs loudly into the phone. "Were you always this _weird_ on the phone?!"

Castiel thinks he should probably wrap this conversation up, he can feel many eyes on him, everyone is probably thinking he's crazy. "Yes, I love you too, Gabriel. See you soon."

"What in the hell are you talking about?! Cas, are you dru-"

Castiel hangs up the phone, handing it over to Sam.

"Everything okay?" Sam asks.

"Yes," Castiel says, "everything is alright. Thank you very much for letting me use your phone."

"You need a ride home, kid?" Singer cuts in.

"Uh… n-no," Castiel says, backing toward the front door. "I'll be fine, I have my bike, and I've already interrupted your dinner enough."

"Squirrelly thing, aren't you? Dinner will keep," Singer insists.

"No really, it's fine. Thank you, Mr. Singer. Sam."

The people in the Winchester household look on with concern and amusement as Castiel makes his hasty exit out the front door. Castiel feels guilty for interrupting them, and for lying to them, but he's still happy he came. He wants Dean to see the photos and the video. He wants Dean to know that his family is thinking of him.

 

***

 

Gabriel comes up to Castiel as soon as he's back home and in his room. Castiel fishes Gabriel's phone out of his pocket, handing it to him. Gabriel takes the phone and stares at Castiel indignantly.

"What?" Castiel asks.

"Who the hell is John Winchester?"

"W...what?"

"I looked at the caller ID after you called, it said Winchester comma John. You had my phone, right? Why were you even using someone else's phone?"

"It's a long story, Gabriel. Nothing bad happened to me, and your phone is fine. Can we leave it at that?"

Gabriel narrows his eyes. "You've gotten really weird since we moved here, you know that?"

"If it makes any difference, I'm not doing drugs or stealing cars," Castiel offers.

"Uh, sure. If you're ever in trouble, though, you know that I'm here for you, right?"

"I do know, thank you Gabriel."

"Just… try not to get beat up again," Gabriel says. Castiel should have known Gabriel didn't buy the bike accident story.

"It is my every hope that I won't be."

After Gabriel leaves, Castiel gets on his laptop to download the files he e-mailed to himself. He's anxious to go to the school, but dinner is soon, and he should savor this holiday meal. Dean would want him to.

 

***

 

Dinner is mostly pleasant. It doesn't have the same big family feel of the Winchester house, but there's only five people in the Shurley household. Gabriel's food is of course delicious, and other than the careful avoidance of mentioning Michael, the conversation is casual and light. Castiel is on cloud nine with Gabriel's macaroni and cheese, it's even better than he remembered. Gabriel mentions using the leftover amount to make breaded and deep fried macaroni and cheese balls, and Castiel can't stop grinning at the prospect.

Castiel assembles a small sandwich using a dinner roll, macaroni and cheese, and a piece of turkey. It's delicious. When he finishes, he looks up to see everyone else at the table making dinner roll sandwiches identical to his. The moment causes an almost painful surge of happiness and love to blossom in his chest, and he's glad Michael isn't here dragging the mood down.

He sits back, watching his family eat. He wants to shove more food in his mouth, but he also wants to save room for dessert. Gabriel made his strawberry-apple pie, and although Castiel had planned on saving a slice to bring Rachel on Monday, he's not feeling optimistic about any of the leftovers making it through the long weekend. Once dessert is finished, the conversation mostly comes to a halt, other than periodic groans of "ugh, that was so _good_ " from everyone.

By the time it's just after eight at night, Gabriel is already conked out in Castiel's room. Their parents are cuddling sleepily on the couch, and Anna is asleep in the recliner in front of the television. Castiel wants to go to Dean, but it doesn't seem like a great idea to bike anywhere so soon after the massive meal. He bids his parents good night and heads to his room. Gabriel is in a deep, sated sleep, not even waking while Castiel gets into sleeping clothes, or when Castiel shoves him to one side of the bed to make room for himself.

He wakes later, the bladder full of sparkling cider in his body making itself a nuisance. After taking care of bathroom business, Castiel returns to his room and glances at the clock. One in the morning. Part of him wants to go back to sleep in his warm bed, but he doesn't hesitate long before flicking on a lamp to find some warm clothes to wear outside. After all, Dean is out there, and Castiel has a gift for him.


	17. Show and Tell

Castiel arrives at the school bundled in his warmest clothes. As he locks up his bike, he notices in the light of the streetlamp that he mistakenly put on his mother's pink scarf. He holds part of the scarf up, looking at it with disdain.

"I think it suits you." Dean's sudden appearances might one day stop startling Castiel within an inch of his life, but today is not that day. Dean just laughs at Castiel's startled expression. "Maybe I should just open with ‘boo!'"

"That won't be necessary," Castiel says drily.

"Shall we go to… our place?" Dean says, smiling.

"Wow," Castiel says, "we have a place. That's sort of strange."

The light is off in the shed for once, and Castiel whines as he tries and fails to locate the switch.

"I know where it is…" Dean teases in a sing-song voice.

Castiel huffs at the darkness. "By all means."

Dean grabs Castiel's hand, pulling him in the opposite direction of where he was feeling around. The light switch is right by the door. Dean laces their fingers together as he moves Castiel's hand to flip on the light. Castiel sucks in a shaky breath, turning to face Dean. On impulse, he brings Dean's hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it.

"Such a _gentleman,_ Mr. Shurley," Dear says softly, smiling at Castiel's responding eye roll. "Did you have a nice day with your family?"

"Um… sort of. It got off to a rocky start, and I think my homosexuality might have ended my brother's marriage, but-"

"Woah, woah, what?"

Castiel sits on the exercise mat, reaching out to pull Dean down to join him. "Michael's comments about me at breakfast brought to light the reality that he and Anna do not share the same views about homosexuality."

"Woah…"

"They're both religious, and of course their marriage vows are important to them, but I got the sense that… this could be a deal breaker, as people say. Anna was horrified. They've been together for five years, married for three. She never knew he didn't have the same views about this. She didn't know he had so much disdain for homosexuals. Then again, none of us really did. She seemed so heartbroken," Castiel says sadly.

Dean gently runs his fingers through Castiel's hair. "What about your brother?"

"Left before we finished breakfast."

"Jesus, he _left_?"

"He was preparing to storm out, and then my mother kind of threw him out as well. He told Anna that they were leaving, and she said she wanted to spend the day with family. Michael then declared that we weren't her family, we were _his_ family."

"Holy shit."

"It was particularly harsh because Anna _has_ no other family. Her parents died in a car accident on the way to their church a few years ago."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Cas."

"Anyway, that's when my mother demanded that he get out."

"Cas, your brother is a _dick._ "

"Yes. On some level, I've always known he was kind of a jerk… but I mean there's disapproval for my grades, and then there's disdain because of who I'm attracted to. This was a whole new level."

"I'm sorry Cas," Dean says, looping an arm around Castiel and squeezing.

"It hurts," Castiel admits, "it really does, but I also feel so… free. His opinion suddenly doesn't matter so much anymore. Suddenly… it's okay that I'm not at the very top of all my classes, that I'm more interested in mythology and languages than business. I'm okay. I'm fine the way that I am." Castiel's eyes water. "Why can't _he_ see that?"

Dean wraps both arms around Castiel then, kissing the top of his head while he sobs for a handful of minutes. After he's calmed a bit, Castiel pulls away to look at Dean, glaring slightly.

"I can't believe how many times I've cried in the past few months. Believe it or not, I wasn't a big crier before I met you. Now I feel like I'm crying once a week. I've never been a particularly ‘macho' person, but I am feeling like a weak little crybaby."

"I used to think it was this big sign of weakness, crying… but it's not. Feeling something isn't a sign of weakness. Feeling pain and reacting to it doesn't make you any less of a person, or a man, or anything like that, so don't feel ashamed."

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel says, grateful.

"I've clearly blossomed as a person since I went into a coma. It sucks that you're the only one who knows I've grown up a little. I've got a whole string of ex-girlfriends that would be very impressed with my new, sensitive attitude," Dean says with a cocky grin.

"Well, when you wake up you can send out a mass e-mail."

"If I wake up I think I'll be too busy eating pie and fucking you silly to bother with e-mailing chicks I used to date."

"Speaking of… I brought you something," Castiel says, opening his bag.

"Speaking of fucking you silly?"

"Speaking of _pie._ "

"Uh, I might be able to eat pie that's like in your hand or something, but I won't taste it or anything. It might be kind of wasted on me."

"I didn't bring you pie, it just reminded me of what I wanted to show you."

Dean smiles as Castiel pulls his laptop out. "Is it finally Dr. Sexy time?"

"It can be, but I want to show you something first," Castiel says, starting up his laptop. "Okay, so this is… kind of creepy, but I'm hoping you'll cut me some slack."

"Because of how creepy _I've_ gotten?"

"Well…"

"Come on, come on, show me your creepy computer thing."

Castiel nods, opening the photo of Dean's house. Dean is silent, and when Castiel looks at him, his eyes are wide.

"My house," Dean says.

"I remembered you telling me how your family has dinner early, and I thought…"

"I miss this house."

"It's a lovely house. I um… borrowed Gabriel's phone to take the photos."

"There's more?"

"Oh yes," Castiel says, "there's more." He hits the arrow key on the laptop keyboard, going to the next photo in the folder. This photo is of the cars in the driveway and front of the house.

Dean points to a black car, visible in the open garage. "That's my car. Sixty-seven Chevy Impala. My dad and I fixed it up when I was seventeen. That's where I was parked the night of the party. My friend Victor gave me a ride, since I was planning on getting wasted. They probably haven't moved it since. Kinda sad, she's a great car, deserves to be out on the road. I was hoping to teach Sammy to drive next year when he's sixteen."

"That could still happen, you know."

"I know," Dean says, but he doesn't sound convinced. He puts his hand on top of Castiel's, pressing Castiel's finger down on the arrow key. He goes past a few more photos of the house. The next photo is of his family at the table. Dean's hand squeezes Castiel's.

"Shit. Did," Dean pauses, snickering, "was this taken through a window?"

"I _told_ you it was creepy," Castiel says, embarrassed.

"I don't care… I… thank you so much. God, I haven't seen them in so long, and it's not like I can look at pictures in my wallet or something. This is… thank you."

"I was hoping you could tell me about them. I don't know who most of them are. You'll be able to see them better in these," Castiel says, moving to the first of the zoomed in shots.

"Well, that one's Sammy, obviously. He's always the youngest at Thanksgiving, and when he was younger he would get so mad whenever anyone would talk about ‘grown-up' stuff, and he'd demand they explain it to him so he could be part of the conversation. Nowadays I usually end up feeling like the young, uninformed one at the table. But it's cool."

They move on to the next photo, with Dean's father looking dubiously at whoever he was talking to when the photo was taken.

"My dad, John. He runs the Auto Zone in town. I was supposed to come work for him after graduation. I told him I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, and he said in that case he'd be putting me to work. Wouldn't have been an interesting job or anything, but I would've done okay. I know a lot about cars, my dad taught me tons."

They move on to the next photo, this one of Dean's mother, smiling.

"Mom… that's my mom, Mary. She works at the library. Mostly in the back, so you might not have ever seen her if you go there. She has this great voice… I miss her singing Hey Jude to me whenever I was really, really down. She's real smart, I always thought Sammy took after her, while I took after Dad. I mean not that Dad and I are idiots, but we're not bookish or anything."

Dean presses Castiel's finger down, moving on to the next photo. This photo is of a woman with long, brown hair, who looks to be about Dean's father's age.

"That's Ellen. Ellen Harvelle," Dean says.

"I know that name," Castiel says, surprised. "I think I have her for Physical Education next semester."

"Really? Holy shit. That's great! See, Ellen runs this bar called The Roadhouse… it used to belong to her husband who died. Anyway, so Ellen and my dad had this poker game, and it has all of these ridiculous stakes that they kept coming up with off the top of their heads. I think they were up to my dad having to shave his head to look like my grandfather on my mom's side… they don't get along… and then Ellen's part was that she'd take the open secondary gym teacher slot for an entire school year. She's always bitching about annoying teenagers with fake IDs. I can't remember _why_ she has the teaching credentials… but yeah. So that was the bet. If Dad won, Ellen would teach General P.E. this year… and if Ellen won, Dad had to shave his hair off and keep it that way for an entire school year."

"I take it your father won."

"Noisiest night my house had in a long time," Dean says happily. "It was great. This was all like a week before graduation, so I never found out if she went through it until I started seeing her around the school."

"Is she going to be a… resentful teacher?"

"Naaah. She yells a lot, but I can tell she's having fun."

They move on to the next photo. This one is of the blonde girl that carved the turkey. In the photo, she's grinning wide at Ellen.

"That's Jo. Joanna Beth Harvelle, Ellen's daughter. She graduated when I did. She's… a really good friend. The Harvelles are practically family." Dean pauses for a moment, looking wistful. "It feels good to see her smiling. The last time I saw her, it was here. She came in as the paramedics were loading me onto the stretcher, and she was screaming my name, and crying. It was fucking abysmal, man. I mean I've heard her in my hospital room a few times, but the last time I saw her face, she was so devastated. Then she got in a car with Victor, Ash, and Benny...drove away… and I couldn't follow. Couldn't leave the parking lot."

"Dean," Castiel says sadly.

Dean just shakes his head. "This photo is perfect. I was looking forward to Thanksgiving with her this year. Last year my dad let me carve the turkey, and she kept ribbing me about how she could do a better job, and then complained when my dad and I got the turkey legs. I told her the legs were reserved for the coolest people at the table. Sam looked all sad, and I told him maybe next year he and I would be the coolest people at the table."

Castiel smiles. He suddenly can't wait to show Dean the video he took, but he decides to save it for the end. They move on to the next photo. The man in this photo has slicked back blonde hair and an unfriendly smirk.

"That's my cousin, Christian. I don't miss him. At all. _Next,_ " Dean says, pushing Castiel's finger down on the arrow key. "Ohh, okay. these are my cousins Gwen and Mark. Mark is… quiet. I know fuck-all about him, he's pretty closed off. He does the uh… companionable silence thing really well, though. Gwen is cool, she works at a tattoo place over in Kansas City. That's where all three cousins live. They don't usually come down for the holidays. My dad doesn't get on that well with that side of the family, honestly. The cousins are all Campbells. That's my mom's maiden name."

On to the next photo. It's of an older man, who's watching someone off to the side. He's bald, and looks fairly unfriendly. Castiel vaguely remembers him as one of the people still seated at the table when he came through.

"That's my grandfather, Samuel. He doesn't get along with Dad. Or Mom, really. Or anyone. I don't even get how the guy ever managed to get married and have kids, the guy has a real burr in his butt. He hasn't come to visit in years. He looks exactly the same, though. Sammy used to get all nervous around him, he thought he had to impress the guy or something because he was named after him. But that was ages ago, when Sammy was little. He gave up on wanting Samuel to like him when he realized Samuel doesn't really like _anyone_."

The next photo is of an older woman, who looks a bit like Dean's mother.

"That's Samuel's wife. My uh. My grandmother, um…" Dean mumbles the rest of the sentence and Castiel fails to catch what he said.

"Pardon?" Castiel asks again.

"My grandmother…" Dean trails off again.

"I can't actually understand you."

"Deanna. My grandmother's name is Deanna," Dean says, exasperated.

Castiel looks at Dean, unable to contain his smile. "Deanna?"

"Cas," Dean groans, scowling.

"You were named after your grandmother."

"It was the damn house, okay? Deanna and Samuel gave my parents a _house_ as a gift when Mom was pregnant… and houses are expensive! They wanted to honor the gift my grandparents had given them… and… ugh. Yes, I'm named for my grandmother."

"That's very sweet," Castiel says slowly.

"Shut up!" Dean whines.

"My first name is Castiel," Castiel offers.

"Yeah? I know that."

"It's from a book of angels my mom found at a book sale. My middle name is James."

"Okay, James is a totally normal name," Dean grouses.

"My parents met at a Star Trek convention. My middle name is James, after James Tiberius Kirk. Gabriel's middle name is Kirk. Michael's middle name is Tiberius."

Dean grins. "Yeah?"

"That's a secret, by the way."

"My lips are sealed," Dean promises. Castiel turns his head, kissing Dean on the lips. They move on to the next photo, and Dean lets out a sad little broken sound. It's the photo Castiel took of Dean's portrait at the head of the table, with the pie in front.

"I bet you anything that's apple pie. My favorite. I am crazy for that pie, Cas."

"It must be well known in your family if it's used for a shrine to you."

"You don't get between Dean Winchester and pie! That's what my dad used to say. Fuck. I miss them, Cas. I wish I could talk to them."

"It's not impossible," Castiel muses, "I could tell them. I could tell them that I see you… and if they didn't believe me, then you could tell me something that only you would know. Works in stories."

"Cas," Dean says sadly, "that's… I mean that's a nice idea, and I won't say I'm not tempted, but… no."

"But…"

"No, man. Even if they did believe you, I'm not going to turn you into ghost e-mail. If they knew I was out here, unseen… that would just mess with their lives. It'd make them sad that they can't see me, that I'm out here alone… and if this is permanent, I think it would just stop them from moving on."

"That's very selfless, Dean."

Dean squeezes Castiel's hand. "It helps that I have you."

"You do. You have me."

Dean smiles, turning back to the laptop screen. He presses Castiel's finger down to cycle through the photos a few more times.

"There's one more thing, I took a video," Castiel says. He closes the photos and opens the video file. Dean watches as his family talks amongst themselves. He grins wide when Singer walks out with the turkey, pressing Castiel's finger down to pause the video.

"Aww, Bobby came!" Dean says.

"I didn't even know you knew him."

"Oh yeah, we go way back. Another friend of the family. You have him for Latin, so you know he's a bit rough around the edges, but he's got a good heart. Between you and me, I think he and Ellen might have a thing for each other," Dean says. They resume the video, and Dean's grin grows as Jo stands up with her knife. "Well I'll be, she carved the turkey after all. Wonder what she's saying to me? Probably something insulting about my amazing carving skills-"

Dean falls silent as Jo places the turkey leg in front of the photo.

"Still the coolest one at the table, even when I'm gone," Dean says quietly. He cocks his head when his family joins hands. "Are they going to say Grace or something? What the hell?"

The video picked up some of the laughter resulting from whatever Sam said, and Dean chuckles when he hears it. He sighs happily as the file ends.

"Do you know what Sam was saying?" Castiel asks.

"I think so. There was this thing that happened. Years ago, the last time my grandparents came down for this. Samuel was so stern and unfriendly, made me real nervous as a kid. Anyway, so dinner was all served up, and I was getting ready to tuck into a hunk of turkey, and then Samuel goes ‘You ain't plannin' on saying Grace, son?' and thirteen year old me was all frozen and panicked, and then a little annoyed that this relative I _never_ see is making me so nervous. My mom is all ‘Dad, we don't really say Grace here,' and Samuel said ‘Well, it's your house,' and my mom got a funny look on her face, and my dad looked pissed, and I didn't realize he was making a crack about how he and Grandma Deanna bought the house, because I didn't know about that yet. All I knew was the room was suddenly real tense. Samuel was staring down at his plate, and Grandma Deanna was looking at him like she was gonna scratch his eyes out when they got home, and my parents were frowning, and Sammy and my cousins looked all awkward. So I was like ‘It's okay, I'll say Grace,' and I made everyone join hands. Everyone looked so uncomfortable. So then I took a deep breath, and told everyone to close their eyes. Then when they did, I rolled out the classic ‘Good bread, good meat, good God, let's eat!'"

Castiel laughs.

"Everyone groaned and laughed, except Samuel, but I didn't care. Most of the table had relaxed, and Grandma Deanna gave a big ‘amen!' and was the first to start chowing down. Anyway, I think that's what Sam said. I'm surprised Samuel laughed though. Wow."

Castiel plays the video again, and Dean is just as rapt as he was the first time. When Sam causes everyone to laugh, Dean snuggles against Castiel.

"Yep," Dean says, "he was definitely quoting me. Love that kid, miss him a lot."

"He clearly misses you too."

"Well who wouldn't?"

"Your modesty is overwhelming."

Dean kisses Castiel on the cheek. "Alright, enough with this emotional stuff. If I could cry, my face would be coated in snot and tears at this point. Let's do something manly, like catch up on those Dr. Sexy episodes."

"Ohh, that sounds very manly."

Castiel plays the first episode saved on his hard drive. He spends the entire time waiting for the show to reveal what exactly Dr. Sexy had discovered on the chief's computer in the previous episode, and is annoyed when it doesn't come up at all. Dr. Sexy spends the entire episode operating on conjoined twins and trading intense looks with Dr. Piccolo.

"I hate when they do that," Dean grumbles as the credits come up.

"Do what?"

"Introduce a story element and then ignore it. I want to know what was on the computer!" Dean whines.

"Me too," Castiel says, "I kept waiting for an explanation, and nothing. Perhaps we'll get answers in the next episode." Castiel plays the next episode. Dean groans and makes rude gestures at the laptop when halfway through the episode it's revealed that the chief's "big secret" is that he is going to be pioneering a new surgical technique.

Dean grabs Castiel's hand and pushes it on the spacebar to pause the episode. "Are you kidding me? I thought he'd found out the chief had cancer, or an illegitimate child, or something sinister. What a let down!"

"I too was expecting something a little more earth shattering than a risky new cardiothoracic technique," Castiel says, disappointed.

Dean huffs angrily. "Well, I guess they can't all be gems."

By the end of the episode, it's revealed that the technique the chief is set to get famous off of was something he stole from a notebook belonging to Dr. Sexy's dead best friend.

Dean is back to smiling. "That was more like it! Oh man, I can't believe he swiped it from Dr. Slade's notes! He _died_ saving the chief during a tornado last season!"

"A tornado?" Castiel asks, baffled. "Doesn't this take place in Seattle?"

Dean ruffles Castiel's hair. "Shhh, just play the next one."

The last episode on Castiel's hard drive is strange, mostly featuring a character Castiel's never seen before. Dean seems excited though, and explains to Castiel that the character left the show two seasons ago, after his marriage to Dr. Piccolo fell apart. The character is at the hospital to get a tumor removed, and by the end of the episode, he and Dr. Piccolo have had sex in an on-call room, and his tumor has been successfully removed, leaving him free to return to Los Angeles. The episode ends on a cliffhanger, where the returning character has just asked Dr. Piccolo to come with him to California.

"Kind of a dumb cliffhanger," Dean says, "She's the second biggest character, it's not like she'd really go with him."

"The show comes back next week, so we'll find out soon enough."

Castiel's laptop gives him a low battery warning, and he puts it away in his bag. "I can't believe it's already after four," he says, yawning.

"You oughta get home, huh?" Dean says. Castiel frowns, manhandling Dean until they're laying on their sides, facing each other. He wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him close.

"I don't want to go," Castiel murmurs.

"It's gotta be cold as balls in here, Cas."

"I want to stay here a while longer. I don't care how cold it is, I have my coat."

"Well it's not like I _want_ you gone, just don't want you getting sick because of me."

"I'll be fine," Castiel promises.

"Uh huh."

They cuddle together as close as they can, and Castiel dozes off to the feel of Dean gently stroking his hair.

 

***

 

Castiel wakes some time later, feeling stiff, a bit sore, and a little aroused. He sleepily grinds against the body in front of his, humming in approval. After a moment he panics, shoving himself away and apologizing.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean asks, confused.

Castiel calms. "Dean? Oh, thank God. I started waking up, and for a horrible moment I thought I was grinding against my brother. We're sharing a bed at my house while Michael and Anna… well, just Anna… are staying with us."

Dean laughs, maybe a bit too loud for the freshly woken Castiel, who winces.

"Oops, sorry about that."

"It's okay," Castiel says, "just a little groggy."

"You sure you don't want me to make it up to you? I mean being so loud when you're just waking up… pretty big offense."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, you'd better let me make it up to you."

Castiel yawns and stretches, flashing Dean a grin. "If you insist…"

Dean is on Castiel immediately, pulling the pink scarf aside to nibble at his neck. Castiel sighs happily, then moans as Dean drags a hand along his hip. He gently palms at Castiel's crotch through his slacks, nuzzling his nose against the underside of Castiel's jaw.

"I miss you, you know," Dean murmurs. "Even when you're right here in front of me, I miss you. I guess because I'm not all the way here. But like this, when you're moaning so pretty for me, I forget that I'm not all the way here. You're fucking captivating like this, Cas."

"Don't think I've ever… oh... been called _captivating_ before."

Dean opens Castiel's slacks and slowly slides his hand inside. "Yeah, well... I'm unique like that."

"You spoil me."

Dean grins wolfishly. "That's the idea, Angel."

Castiel freezes, staring at Dean with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" Dean asks, looking concerned.

"Alastair. He… he called me that. He called me Angel. I don't know if it was because he knows what I'm named after, or I don't know maybe just a coincidence… but…"

Dean awkwardly moves his hand out of Castiel's pants, frowning. "I um… sorry, man. I think I even heard him say that, it totally slipped my mind."

"Because I'm captivating?"

Dean gives Castiel a startled smile. "You know what? Fuck this. Alastair doesn't get to ruin god damn _words_ for you, Cas." Dean shoves his hand in Castiel's underwear, taking his dick in a firm grip. He leans over Castiel, nuzzling at his ear for a moment before moving his hand away and holding it up to Castiel's face. "Lick. Now."

Castiel nods eagerly before obeying, covering Dean's hand with wet and eager licks. Dean grins approvingly and takes Castiel in hand again. Castiel moans, hands gripping Dean's shoulders. Dean jacks Castiel with a firm hand, pausing every so often to rub his thumb over the slippery cockhead. Then he starts hissing words in Castiel's ear.

"If I call you Angel, you're not going to think about Alastair."

"I'm not?" Castiel says, dazed. "I'm not."

"No, you're not. Know why?"

"Why?"

Dean tightens his grip. "Because he's scum. He's mud, lower than the dirt beneath your feet. He doesn't get to give you pet names," Dean growls, "his words mean nothing." Dean's strokes are almost vicious, and they feel so good Castiel has to fight to absorb the words Dean is saying. "You following me, Cas?"

"Y-yes. Yes," Castiel pants.

"What'd I say?" Dean demands. He continues stroking Castiel, precome starting to ease the way even more.

"A-Alastair means ...oh… oh, God, he means nothing. He can't give me a pet name…"

"Close enough. Now, can you tell me why he doesn't get to give you a pet name?"

"Because he's-- oh fuck-- scum?"

Dean twists his hand slightly at the head, tightening his grip further. "Because you're _mine,_ Angel."

"D-Dean."

"Tell me you're my angel, Cas."

"I am, Dean. I'm yours, I'm your angel, yours... _fuck_."

Dean shoves his other hand down the back of Castiel's pants, grabbing a handful of his ass and jacking him rapidly. "Come for me, Angel."

Instead of feeling revulsion at the name, Castiel feels nothing but arousal rocketing through his body as he crashes into an intense orgasm. His vision goes hazy, and he's vaguely aware of the fact that he's panting and moaning "yours" over and over.

Dean withdraws his hands from inside Castiel's pants, smirking filthily as he wipes his hand off on the pink scarf still clinging to Castiel's shoulders.

"Actually, I probably won't call you Angel. It's pretty corny," Dean says, patting the scarf. "You're gonna want to wash that before you give it back to whoever it belongs to. Unless it's yours."

"You wiped my semen on my _mother's_ scarf," Castiel says, horrified.

Dean laughs. "I sure did."

Castiel grabs Dean's hand, pulling it close. "I think you missed a spot," he teases, then licks Dean's hand carefully and slowly. Dean's eyes are as wide as saucers. Castiel gives him a sly grin, then checks the watch from his coat pocket, frowning. "Wow. I think I have to go."

"Why, what time is it?"

"It's almost noon."

"Holy shit, really? I must have fallen asleep," Dean says. Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Or… you know, ghost sleep. Okay maybe I just lost track of time. Sorry man, I would've woken you up hours ago if I'd realized how much time had passed."

"Were you distracted with watching me sleep for several hours?"

Dean shrugs. "Apparently." He points at Castiel's scarf. "You might wanna hide that until you can wash it."

Castiel glares, stuffing the soiled scarf in his coat pocket and getting to his feet. He zips and straightens his clothing, heading for the door.

They walk to Castiel's bike in silence, and after a while Castiel lets out a sigh. "I hate leaving you."

"Aw, Cas. Just think of it like the end of a date, yeah? We're just parting ways at the end of the date."

"I mean I hate leaving you _here._ "

"Oh. Hey, it's okay. You have a life. It isn't your fault that I kind of… don't. You're not abandoning me, don't feel like you are. I don't," Dean says earnestly.

"It's just...hard."

"I know. I'm gonna make it a little easier, okay?" Dean kisses Castiel on the forehead. "See you soon, Cas." Dean fades away while Castiel watches, giving a pitiful little wave.

Not being able to see Dean doesn't make it easier to leave.


	18. The Calm Before…

Things change a bit around Castiel's house after Thanksgiving. Michael and Anna enter into a trial separation that is clearly prelude to a divorce. The family spends Thanksgiving weekend clearing out the garage for Anna to move in. The cars go into the driveway under tarps, the mechanical garage door gets disabled, and Castiel moves his bike to the back porch. Boxes of Anna's things are overnighted to the house on Monday, and by Thursday Anna has the garage looking like a real room. She doesn't talk about Michael, or the job and friends she's leaving behind in Seattle, and Castiel's family doesn't ask. She fits into the house fairly easily, seemingly content to paint for hours and hours. Castiel wonders if this is a part of her grieving process, or simply how she's always spent her days.

He comes home a few times to find Anna in his room, staring at the painting of the dove. She doesn't seem sad exactly, but thoughtful.

Castiel doesn't see Dean that week, and he sits in his Latin class, wondering if it's intentional, if Dean wants space from him. He's almost impressed by his own sudden swell of insecurity. A few months ago he wouldn't have thought he'd ever fall prey to romantic insecurities, but here he is. He feels stupid. His last interaction with Dean involved him making Castiel say he was Dean's, and yet he's feeling all this doubt? Stupid.

He turns to a new page in his notebook, and writes.

**This is stupid. I feel insecure because I can't see you. I'm worried you're avoiding me. I've always been a fairly rational person, except for maybe when it came to my oldest brother. But I don't know, I'm worried I'm too clingy or something. You are, for all intents and purposes, my boyfriend, and I've never had one before. I didn't think I CARED about this kind of thing. I don't even know what I'm trying to say. I guess I just wanted to say that I'm feeling insecure, and that I know it's dumb, but I assume that it's better to share it with you than keep it bottled in. I mean if you're there. Maybe some other school ghost is reading this and laughing at my ridiculousness.**

Castiel pauses, staring at what he's written.

**I can't tell if I'm hoping you saw this or not. A more coherent draft might be in order.**

He sighs, tapping his pen against his notebook. The fluorescent light above his desk flickers a few times, and Castiel smiles.

 

***

 

**(December 8th, 2013)**

 

It's a chilly but clear Sunday, so Castiel bikes to the school with his laptop. He sits in the shed for a while, and when he sees the light flicker faintly, he smiles and starts the latest episodes of Dr. Sexy. He talks more than he normally would during an episode, but he wants Dean to know that he knows he's there with him.

Dr. Piccolo doesn't go to California with the man from the last episode, but Castiel finds he's less interested in the show when he can't see Dean and his reactions. He says as much out loud when the episode ends.

After a few minutes of silence, Castiel says that he should go, he has class in the morning. He tells the empty room goodnight, and heads home.

 

***

 

On Monday, Castiel arrives at school and is delighted to see Dean lurking by the wall near the entrance. He quickly locks up his bike and hurries to the door.

"Dean," he says happily.

Dean looks up in surprise, grinning at Castiel. He opens his mouth to reply.

"Did you just say Dean?"

Castiel turns swiftly, seeing Sam standing behind him. "P-pardon?"

"I thought you said my brother's name just now," Sam says.

"Ah… no, I said deep."

"Deep?"

"Like um… deep breathing?" Castiel tries. "I'm nervous about my test in first period."

"This is _pathetic,_ Cas," Dean says, sounding ashamed and amused.

"So I was just… remembering to breathe deep," Castiel adds.

Sam raises his eyebrows, then smiles. "Oh. Uh… well, good luck with your test!" Sam scurries away.

Castiel wants to hug Dean, but there are still other students around.

"Do you really have a test first period?" Dean asks, still smiling. Castiel shakes his head. "Shed's probably free until after lunch. Wanna go out there?" Dean tries, gesturing toward the soccer field. Castiel nods enthusiastically.

They walk to the shed, Dean whistling a Metallica song that Castiel vaguely recognizes. Castiel has to hold himself back from sprinting straight to the shed, and waits until no one is around before he slips inside. As soon as they're inside, Dean descends on Castiel, clutching him in a tight hug and kissing the side of his face.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate when you can't see me? I mean I vanished so it'd be easier for you to leave last week, and then I couldn't undo it. It was so frustrating," Dean whines, holding Castiel tighter.

"I agree. Frustrating. You were with me though, right? Making the light in my class flicker? And in the shed?"

"Of course, Cas. Fuck that was hard to do. The first time was just difficult and took all this concentration, but the second time was even harder and as soon as you were gone I went right into ghost-nap mode. Guess that shit isn't for beginners."

"That sounds scary."

"A little," Dean shrugs.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yes. I mean… you know, okay as I ever am these days."

"That's good. Sort of."

Dean nods and resumes kissing the side of Castiel's face. "Missed you, Cas." He's about to unbutton Castiel's pants when he stops. "Aw, someone's coming," Dean says, pulling away. He fixes Castiel's hair and clothes as Castiel looks nervously around the shed. There's not exactly anywhere to hide.

The door opens and a woman Castiel recognizes as Ellen Harvelle stops at the sight of him.

"Hey, it's Ellen!" Dean says unhelpfully.

"There a reason you're in here, kid?" Ellen asks, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

Castiel looks around nervously. "I um…"

"You meeting a girl in here?" Ellen guesses.

"No…" Castiel says slowly.

"It's a good a lie as any, man," Dean says.

"A boy," Castiel says.

Ellen raises her eyebrows.

"We um… we can't be seen together," Castiel adds.

Dean barks out a short laugh. "Good one," he says, nudging Castiel a bit too hard. Ellen's expression becomes even more baffled when Castiel stumbles seemingly for no reason.

"Am I in trouble?" Castiel asks, nervous.

"Should you be?"

"I… um…"

"Don't I know you?"

Castiel stares at his feet. "I don't think-"

"Sure I do! You're the squirrelly kid that used the phone at the Winchester place on Thanksgiving! The one John found in the backyard," Ellen says, sounding amused.

"Really?" Dean says.

"Um, yes…" Castiel says, to both of them, really.

"You didn't tell me you got _caught,_ man," Dean says.

"Kid, you gotta calm down, it's fine. I'm not gonna turn you in. Just go to whatever class you're ditching, alright?" Ellen says.

"Yes, ma'am," Castiel mutters, heading for the door. Dean follows.

"And hey," Ellen adds, "this shed is not for mid-morning trysts with your secret boyfriend, are we clear?"

"She's right, Cas, we really should stick to night time," Dean jokes.

"Yes ma'am," Castiel says again. He hurries to his class, Dean following along and looking like he wants to laugh.

Crowley gives Castiel a raised eyebrow when he slides into his desk twenty minutes late, but lets the matter drop. Dean needles Castiel for information about Thanksgiving, so Castiel writes a few sentences about the experience in his notebook. Dean laughs and spends the rest of the class rubbing Castiel's shoulders in sympathy. It's not a terrible way to spend a morning.

 

***

 

A couple of weeks pass. Castiel spends his days trying to pay attention in school while Dean rubs his shoulders, or tells funny jokes that only he can hear.

On the Friday before Winter Break, Castiel sits with his study group in the library. Marv has taken to vanishing for longer and longer periods of time, and Castiel is annoyed that it took Marv such a short amount of time to forget that he's _obligated_ to be in the room. He's glad the guilty staring has stopped, however.

Since this isn't their actual study day, no one in the group is really doing much work this time around, instead they're mostly just discussing their holiday plans.

Samandriel and Rachel are both going to spend Christmas out of state, and Rachel is very excited to be going to a New Year's Eve party with a cousin in Chicago. Inias has a big event he's been helping his church with, Hester has plans with her mother that involve a lot of baking, and Balthazar is already dreading spending the holiday in the vicinity of his sister. Castiel's parents are off on another research adventure, but they've promised to be back for Christmas Eve.

Castiel talks to his friends about how Anna is looking forward to decorating. The group knows about Anna's separation, but Castiel has neglected to mention the catalyst. He's a little afraid to. They probably have some assumptions, but no one other than Balthazar actually knows he's attracted to men. Hester and Inias are both religious, and Castiel doesn't know if their views are like Anna's, or like Michael's. No one's ever mentioned having a problem with Balthazar's bisexuality, but Castiel can't help but be worried. What happened with Michael was such a disaster and he's not anxious to repeat it. The voices of his friends start to fade as he cycles through the myriad of terrible reactions his friends could have. What if they're disgusted and don't want to be friends anymore? What if their disgust insults Balthazar as well and the group falls apart? Because of _him_? But does he really want to be in a group that can't accept him?

Someone says his name loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I'm gay," he blurts out. He looks up to see the entire group staring at him, and hears the unmistakable sound of Dean's laughter from somewhere in the room.

"I'm bisexual," Balthazar says blandly, "is this some sort of boring new game?" Hester slaps Balthazar over the back of the head and Dean laughs even louder.

"Have some compassion, he looks terrified!" Hester chides.

"It's just… we're friends," Castiel says. Everyone nods uncertainly. "The reason that Anna lives with us now is that my brother found out I was gay, and he couldn't accept it. He thinks it's a sin, some terrible _choice_ that I've made, and Anna doesn't agree with that, and they couldn't get past it. So now Anna lives with us, and we don't talk to Michael at all." His friends are looking at him with concern, but no judgment. Castiel takes it as a good sign. "I've been… afraid to tell you. It's not that I assume the worst of you, but it's hard not to be scared. You can think you know someone, but sometimes you just don't. Anna and Michael have been together for five years and they didn't know each other like they thought they did."

Castiel sighs, eyes wandering around the room. He feels bolstered when he spots Dean nearby, gazing at him with no small amount of affection. "It's scary, but it's probably better to know now if this is a problem. So, yeah. I'm gay."

"Well you know _I've_ got no problem with it," Balthazar says smugly.

"I'm gay too," Samandriel says quietly. Castiel looks at him in surprise.

"Inias and I have been sleeping together," Hester says. Castiel has to fake his surprise at that one.

"What the fuck, _really?_ " Balthazar practically yells.

"Yes," Hester says plainly. She groans and plucks off her purity ring, pocketing it. Inias does the same.

"I have a crush on Castiel's AP European History teacher," Rachel chimes in.

"What in the hell?" Balthazar says, looking horrified.

"Sorry I don't have anything more scandalous. I'm a heterosexual virgin," Rachel says, glaring.

Balthazar's expression doesn't change. "But… _Crowley_?"

"I find him attractive, okay?!" Rachel says, crossing her arms.

"He's such a dick!" Balthazar says, gesturing wildly.

"He's just a bit rough around the edges!" Rachel says, "Plus there's that accent…"

"I have an accent, I don't see you fawning over me!"

"Yes, but you don't have _that_ accent."

"She's right," Samandriel says, "yours is that weird French-British sounding thing."

"How'd that even happen?" Inias asks. Balthazar scowls at everyone.

Hester reaches across the table, taking Castiel's hand. "We've gotten off topic. I want to make it clear, Castiel. Your brother's views are _wrong,_ and I don't share them."

"Nor do I," Rachel says.

"Yeah, me either," Inias adds.

"Well _obviously_ I don't," Samandriel says.

"Cassie and I made out twice," Balthazar says.

"Balthazar!" Castiel hisses.

"Just putting all the cards on the table!" Balthazar says breezily. Castiel thunks his head on the table as everyone stares at him. Dean's laughter is even louder than it was before.

 

***

 

It's after five. Castiel's friends have gone home, and Marv is _still_ gone. Maybe Castiel should leave a rude note on Marv's desk about his responsibilities. Castiel told his friends he was staying to do a bit of work, but really he just wanted to spend some time with Dean, who is giving Castiel another shoulder rub. Castiel is definitely enjoying the attention.

"This is much nicer than the shed. I'm assuming it's warmer, too," Dean says.

"True, but I don't quite like it here when it's this empty," Castiel says, shuddering just barely.

"Oh. Yeah, I can understand that. Wanna go somewhere else?"

"Nah," Castiel says. "So, I'm thinking about asking my mother for a heavier winter coat."

Dean straddles Castiel's lap. "For all our wintery interludes?"

"I'm just thinking ahead," Castiel says, grinning.

"Who are you talking to?" The voice sends a nauseous chill through Castiel's body. He and Dean immediately get to their feet, turning to face the source: Alastair.


	19. The Storm

Alastair is standing in front of the double doors leading into the library from the rest of the school. The closed double doors. They're never closed. Castiel already wants to run. He's had zero contact with Alastair in the past few weeks, and he's gotten good at just ignoring him if he sees him around school. He doesn't know what to do now. He doesn't know how to deal with this.

"Shit," Dean says, "just… shit."

"Well?" Alastair asks.

"Myself," Castiel says. "I was talking to myself."

"People will think you're crazy if you do shit like that," Alastair says.

"What do you want?" Castiel asks, trying not to sound threatening.

Alastair steps a little closer. "I've been watching you, the past few days."

"Try _weeks,_ creep-ball," Dean snaps. Castiel glances at him in alarm. "I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't want you to be freaked out that he was watching you, especially when you weren't going to report the fucking guy."

"Report him for _what,_ looking at me?" Castiel barks.

"For the _other_ things, Cas," Dean says, exasperated.

"You still should have told me," Castiel says.

Alastair looks confused and annoyed. " _Who_ are you talking to?!"

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean says, "it was clearly the wrong call."

"I'm talking to the voices in my head. Because I'm crazy. Please, leave me be," Castiel tries.

"Nah," Alastair says, smirking. "Nice try, though."

"Why are you here?"

"Took a nap in the boiler room… woke up a bit late. Saw your bike out front."

"That doesn't mean you need to come talk to me, Alastair."

"Careful," Dean warns, "don't piss him off."

"Just… what do you want?" Castiel asks.

"I'm been thinking about our last conversation," Alastair says casually.

"You mean when you were going to rape me," Castiel says. Alastair flinches, but only barely. Dean looks pained.

"Yeah, that's the one," Alastair says.

"Cas," Dean says, voice strained. "They installed a phone in Marv's office two weeks ago. You need to get to it and call the cops."

Castiel's eyes drift over to the office, then snap back to Alastair as he chuckles. "Let's not start with the running, Angel."

"Don't call me that," Castiel snaps, then winces. He shouldn't be ordering Alastair around.

Alastair just shrugs. "Touchy, touchy."

"Okay, our last conversation. What about it?"

"I was thinking about what you said. About how you didn't want it. That you wanted me to _know_ that you didn't want it."

"That's still true, Alastair. I want nothing to do with you."

"Yes, well. I've decided I don't care."

Dean swears and Castiel turns, running for the office. He only gets a few steps before Alastair is tackling him to the floor, then rolling him onto his back. Dean is looking disoriented, flickering. He looks at Castiel with panicked eyes before vanishing.

Alastair punches Castiel hard in the chest before he starts yanking at Castiel's clothes while Castiel struggles to get his breath back. Castiel sucks in a small amount of air before lashing out, punching Alastair in the jaw. Alastair glares and punches him right back.

"I don't have time for this, that idiot librarian will be back in a while," Alastair complains.

"Then _go,_ " Castiel says.

"You're going to stop fighting me, Castiel," Alastair says. Castiel glares and shoves at him. "Or I go for Sam instead." Castiel freezes, staring at Alastair. "That's always been the deal, right? You instead of little Sammy? You're not holding up your end."

The fight drains out of Castiel immediately. He can't just sacrifice Sam. He couldn't do it before, and he certainly can't do it now after everything he's been through with Dean. If only that god damn librarian would come back. It wouldn't matter if it was Castiel's word against Alastair's, the police would believe a school employee.

"Alastair, please," Castiel says, and Alastair's eyes light up with excitement. Castiel curses inwardly at his error. Alastair just grins, pulling at Castiel's shoes, then pants, then his shirt.

Castiel stares up at the ceiling, wishing he had some ability to just check out until this is over. He's in his boxers, in the library, with Alastair's disgusting hands on his body, and Alastair's horrible lips on his. He thinks about what Dean said to him a while back. About how he had this same thing, with this same horrible man, happen to him. He hopes he can beat the hell out of Alastair after like Dean did. Or kill him. It would be worth going to prison, he's sure of it. Alastair violated Dean, took Dean from his family, beat and threatened Castiel. Now this. Castiel hopes Dean isn't seeing this.

Alastair reaches for the waistband of Castiel's boxers, pauses, then starts unbuckling his belt instead. Castiel's body roils with the nausea. He's going to kill Alastair. He is. He just needs a pen or something, he'll stab him right in the neck. If he wasn't so afraid of the retaliation, he'd give in to his urge to vomit.

Alastair seems to be taking his time, and Castiel is starting to wish he would just get it over with. He realizes his eyes are closed and opens them to look at Alastair.

Alastair is staring up at the lights, which are flickering wildly. Castiel feels even sicker. Dean is here. Dean is going to see this happen. Alastair finally dismisses the lights and turns his attention back to Castiel. Castiel wonders if he should try to talk him out of this again, but he doesn't have any idea of what he would say. Begging him not to will spur him on, threatening him will bring violence.

Alastair pulls his belt off, folding it in half. He strikes Castiel hard across the chest with it, probably just because he can. It hurts. Castiel wonders where the god damn librarian is.

"I thought you were in a hurry," Castiel growls, then winces. He'd hit _himself_ if he wasn't trying not to move. He wants this over, but the more Alastair drags this out, the more time there is for Marv to show his stupid face back here and catch him.

"Not sure I appreciate the tone, but I do appreciate your eagerness," Alastair says.

Castiel glares. "I'm not _eager,_ you sadistic piece of sh-"

Alastair strikes Castiel across the chest again, this time leaving a welt that Castiel can see when he lifts his head. Alastair threads the belt around Castiel's neck, pulling it tight enough to be uncomfortable. He looks pleased with the result.

"Looks like a collar. I think this makes you mine, Angel."

Castiel can't hold himself back from responding. "I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you," he snarls. Alastair just smiles, unzipping his pants. The nausea starts rolling through Castiel again, and he closes his eyes. He's exposed, and cold. Actually, very cold. Too cold for the library. Alastair reaches for the waistband of Castiel's boxers again, and that's when he hears it.

**_"CAS!!!!"_ **

Castiel's eyes pop open at the sound of several light bulbs exploding. Alastair is looking around, alarmed. Books and furniture go flying in several directions, papers everywhere.

Alastair yelps as something knocks him off of Castiel and onto the floor several feet away. Castiel watches in awe as Dean materializes, crouched over Alastair. It's clear from Alastair's expression that he can see Dean too.

"Winchester," Alastair mumbles in disbelief. Dean punches Alastair several times in the face. Castiel sits up, staring with wide eyes.

"Dean…" Castiel says softly.

"You… can't be here," Alastair says.

"Oh, I've been here all along, Alastair. Every fucking day. I saw everything you did to Cas. I saw what you threatened to do to my brother. My _BROTHER_!!!" Dean punches Alastair again, and blood starts flowing out of his nose. "I've been watching since you put me in a coma, watching like the grim fucking specter I am."

"But you're not dead. You're not dead, and ghosts aren't real," Alastair says, sounding desperate. Dean backhands him, and Castiel wonders if he should be stopping this.

"I'm going to have to disagree with you," Dean growls. The light directly above them shatters, and Alastair actually whimpers in fear. Castiel can't help but revel in it. "You sound scared, Alastair. I hope you're fucking terrified. I watched you degrade Cas for your own sick enjoyment, just like you did to me. And you thought you'd just keep getting away with it, didn't you Alastair?"

"No, no, I…"

"Yeah. You did. You thought you'd see if you could break Cas, right? Thought you would use him like he was _nothing_?!"

Castiel winces as the _walls_ actually crack in several places. Now he's worried. He has no desire to spare Alastair, but he's read about vengeful spirits, and he doesn't want Dean to become some twisted and angry phantom. Castiel makes his way over to them, crouching next to Dean. Alastair's eyes dart to him, terrified.

"Dean," Castiel says gently. Dean turns to look at him, and Castiel watches Dean take in his undressed state, the belt still around his neck, and Dean's expression tightens even more. Dean turns back to Alastair, grabbing him by the throat.

"Are you fucking scared, Alastair?" Dean demands. Alastair's eyes are wide, brimming with tears. "Tell me if you're scared, or I snap your neck right fucking now." Another light breaks, and the window to Marv's office splits down the middle.

"I am," Alastair promises, "I'm scared."

"Dean!" Castiel shouts.

"Feels fucking humiliating, doesn't it?" Dean hisses. Alastair looks to Castiel nervously. "Doesn't it?!" He pulls Alastair up slightly, just to slam him back down against the floor.

"Yes. It does, it does!" Alastair cries out.

"That's great. This is how you should be, Alastair. Terrified and humiliated."

Castiel pulls the belt away from his neck, flinging it to the floor. He grabs Dean's face with both hands and turns him so he's looking at Castiel instead. "Dean. Please calm down, don't lose yourself. Not for him."

"I'm sorry, Cas. This is important," Dean says, turning back to the shaking Alastair. Castiel's hands drop to his sides as Dean regards the terrified man. "I get it," Dean says to Alastair, "he doesn't want me to become a monster. That's fair. So I'm going to leave the choice to you, Alastair. You like giving choices."

Dean stares at Alastair, waiting for him to speak. "What are my choices?" Alastair finally asks.

"I can kill you right now. I can snap your neck, or maybe just beat you to death. Then you can be a ghost like me. Or maybe you'll just go straight to Hell," Dean says calmly.

Alastair's face is white with terror. "What's the other option?"

"You leave, get in that fucking ugly car you drive, and drive to the police station. You go inside, and you confess to raping me, to _intentionally_ shoving me down those bleachers after I got in the way of you raping someone else. When they ask how you got hurt, you tell them you tried to assault someone you didn't know and they beat the shit out of you. If you've ever violated anyone else, you confess to that too. You confess to what you did to Cas too, but you leave his name the hell out of it. Hell, you confess to trashing the library. You waive your right to an attorney, and you go to prison where you belong. I'll be with you, Alastair. Invisible. Waiting. If you deviate from this plan at all, I'll kill you on the fucking spot."

Castiel is impressed with the lie. Dean seems to be corporeal, but that doesn't mean he can leave the school.

"I… I knocked out the librarian in the hall," Alastair confesses.

Dean just looks at him. "And?"

"Do I confess to that too?"

"Are you trying to be dense? Yes, you fucking idiot! What are you choosing?"

"I don't want to die, Dean."

"So then I guess you've got a fucking appointment with the Lawrence PD, Alastair," Dean says. He stands, dragging Alastair to his feet.

"Are you real?" Alastair asks. "Are you really Dean?"

"I don't think it matters if I'm Dean Winchester or if I'm a vengeful demon wearing his face. All that matters is that if you don't go right now, I'm going to kill you. Remember. You do what I said or you're a fucking dead man. And years from now, if they ever let you out? You'd better fuck off right out of Kansas."

Alastair stares at Dean for a long moment before turning and running out of the library.

Dean immediately drops to his knees.

"Dean," Castiel says, moving next to him. "Dean, are you okay?"

"No, I… no. I'm sorry if I scared you, Cas. I needed him to be scared. I needed him to think I was some sort of scary monster from Hell ready to fuck his shit up. I needed him to believe I'd kill him...and… fuck it took so much. I feel wrong. Something's wrong," Dean says, shaking.

Dean flickers, and Castiel reaches out in panic. His hand goes right through Dean, and Dean looks like he could cry.

"Oh God," Dean says, "I don't know what's happening."

Castiel's eyes flood with tears. "Dean, you can't go. You just saved me… and we have to watch last night's Dr. Sexy, and… and you can't go, you have to stay to find out whether Alastair gets beat up in prison. Please, Dean."

"Cas, I can't hang on. I'm sorry, fuck. You know I love you, right?"

Castiel lets out something between a sob and a dry heave. "I love you too, Dean."

Dean relaxes. "Then… it's okay. Just don't ever forget that I love you. Even if-"

 

 

Dean disappears.

 

 

 **" _DEAN_!!!"** Castiel screams, but there's only silence.

Castiel looks around the destroyed library, feeling lost. He puts his clothes back on in a daze, grabbing his backpack and leaving the library. He spots Marv's unconscious form and dispassionately checks for a pulse. Finding one, he heads back into the library, dials 911, and informs them that a man is unconscious in the hall outside the LHS library.

Then he leaves. He gets on his bike and rides home.

Castiel watches the local news that night, sees a story about Alastair, and about the destroyed library.

He bikes to the school several times over break, but he isn't surprised when he can't find Dean. Christmas and New Year's are dull and bland, and the worst part is that he can't tell anyone why he's depressed.

It's not until after the holidays that he hears the news; Dean Winchester woke up from his coma on December 20th, the same night Alastair turned himself in.


	20. Lights On

 

Waking up is hard.

 

 

 

 

Every time Dean closes his eyes for more than a moment, there are different people in the room when he opens them again. The first few times he panics. There are tubes in his body, and he doesn't know where he is. He feels like there's somewhere he's supposed to be, but everything is fuzzy. People are holding him down and yelling something, and he's trying to fight them off, but it's pretty pointless. He can barely move. He sees someone with a needle and is terrified, and then it hits him. He must be in a hospital. Something must have happened. These are doctors, they're trying to help him. He relaxes, tries to apologize.

His voice is rough, Dean doesn't even recognize it, but the person with the needle seems to understand. Everyone relaxes slightly, and Dean watches as the person with the needle prepares to insert it into his IV. After a moment, they seem to change their mind and put it directly into his arm instead. He's out in moments.

 

***

 

There are far fewer people in the room the next time he wakes up. There's light coming through the curtains, Dean doesn't think there was before. He must have been out a while. He thinks he might also be in a different room. He really needs to pee.

"Gotta… pee," he croaks out.

A cute brunette girl in maroon scrubs turns to look at him. "Uh, sorry. That's not supposed to happen. You're still hooked up to the catheter. You kinda just… go. We'll check your catheter to make sure it's functioning correctly."

"I can't do that with people in here watching, that's gross," Dean grouses.

A man in green scrubs grins. "Alright. We'll be right back. You've got thirty seconds, dude." The two people...nurses, maybe… leave, and Dean relaxes, then falls asleep again.

 

***

 

This time Dean wakes up alone. He tries to move, but it's hard. He's sore, and his muscles aren't cooperating. He sighs and stares at the ceiling. He falls asleep again.

 

***

 

"Are you with me?"

Dean turns his head, opens his eyes. A man in a white lab coat is peering at him.

"I think," Dean mutters.

"My name is Dr. Abner," the man says slowly, "can you tell me your name?"

"It's ah… Dean. Dean Winchester."

Dr. Abner smiles big. "Great, Dean. That's great. Can you tell me the last thing that you remember?"

Dean blinks. That's a good question. His thoughts are jumbled, and his memories don't feel particularly linear. "I… um."

"It's okay, Dean, take your time."

Dean pauses a moment, trying to sort out the images in his head into something that means anything. "Party. Graduation party?"

"Good, that's wonderful," Dr. Abner says, encouraging. "Anything else?"

"I'm sorry, I don't even remember the party that much. Just like… bits of laughing, holding drinks, toasting the future, I think."

"That's fine, you're doing great."

"What was it? I mean, what happened? Fuck, I'm thirsty." A nurse Dean hadn't even noticed holds a cup of water up to Dean's lips. He takes a few sips. It burns and feels amazing at the same time.

"Well, like you said there was a party. You had an accident, we think maybe alcohol contributed, you definitely had some in your system," Dr. Abner says.

"An accident? Did… was I driving? Drunk?! Did I hurt someone?!" Dean feels himself panicking, hears the sound of his pulse monitor picking up.

"Dean, Dean. Calm down. It's okay. You weren't driving, you fell down the bleachers at your school. It caused a lot of swelling on your brain," Dr. Abner says.

Dean calms down, the beeping slowly starts to return to normal and fade into the background. "Swelling?"

"You were in a coma. Even after the swelling had gone down, and you stopped needing critical care. You just wouldn't wake up."

"A coma? How long?"

Dr. Abner hesitates. "It's been seven months."

Dean tries to stay calm. Seven months. That's a long time. But it could have been worse. He could have been in a coma for twenty years, and come out of it to find his friends and family dead, and —

"My family," Dean says nervously.

"Your parents and your brother are asleep in the waiting room. I'll get them very soon."

"Okay. Okay, that's great. So like… should I be worried that I can't move? Because I can feel my arms and legs, but I kind of can't move."

Dr. Abner does a few perfunctory examinations on Dean as he answers. "No, that's nothing unusual. Even people who are only out for a few days can experience muscle weakness after a coma, and your muscles haven't been used in several months. You're actually doing very well. No immediate signs of nerve damage, your communication skills are exemplary, you're not struggling to form sentences."

"Does that… happen to people?"

"The brain is a mysterious thing, Dean. Some brains bounce back from injuries, some don't. Coma patients can be subject to things like speech problems, memory loss, even personality changes."

"I don't… I feel… I mean I feel like me."

"Your mind seems very resilient, I wouldn't worry. It's just a little lazy about waking up it seems," Dr. Abner says, smiling. He gives Dean a friendly nudge. "Honestly, you're doing very good so far. You were pretty frantic when you first woke, but from what I could tell you recognized where you were and calmed down pretty easily. As we move forward, we'll start to watch for complications, get you physical therapy, that kind of thing. If you notice things… mood swings, holes in your memory… be honest about it. Even if you feel embarrassed, or like it's not important, it's information we need to have, alright?"

"Okay, that sounds easy enough," Dean says.

"This will be a long and trying process, Dean, but you're back with us and that's what's most important. Now, I'll get your family, and you can talk to them one at a time for a few minutes, okay?"

"One at a time?"

"Just for now, it's better for you not to do too much at once. I'll be right back."

Dean nods at Dr. Abner, who exits the room. Dean stares at the ceiling. A coma. He fell down the bleachers and into a coma, how fucking embarrassing. He tries to move his limbs, but they might as well be weighed down with boulders. His arms look thin and pale, it's fucked up. He tries to remember the party, but it's a blur. His last solid and linear memory is from days before the party. Washing Alastair's blood off his hands after beating the shit out of him. He starts thinking about why he'd beat up Alastair. He thinks about the fear he'd felt, crying, angry that he'd been too wasted to put up a better fight. The memory disturbs him, in a way that has nothing to do with the event itself. It's making him feel like he's forgetting something very, very important.

"Dean?"

Dean looks over at the door, jaw dropping slightly. Sam has grown quite a bit. Dean feels like it's been maybe a few days… a few _hazy_ days, since he last saw him. But it's been months. Sam is taller, his hair is longer, even the clothes he's wearing are unfamiliar. He wants to reach out, but he can't move. Hell, even his jaw feels worn out from talking.

"Jesus fuck, you got big," Dean mutters.

Sam throws himself at Dean, hugging him in a way that is wonderful, and also causing his body to pull on his catheter. He winces, but doesn't say anything about it.

"Sorry man," Dean says, "can't hug you back. I'm mentally hugging you really hard though, I promise."

Sam pulls back, eyes full of tears. "I missed you so much, Dean."

"Well, I'm back now, ready to tease you about the fact that you need a haircut," Dean says, smiling.

"Lenore says it looks good!" Sam huffs.

"And who is… _Lenore_?" Dean asks, grinning.

Sam shuffles his feet, looking embarrassed. "She's um… my girlfriend."

" _Really_ now? You with a girlfriend? I thought I woke up seven months in the future, not seven months in an alternate reality."

"She's a little weird, she's into vampires and wears black clothes and makeup, but she's really awesome."

"Goth chick, huh? She cute?"

"She is! She's really pretty. I have pictures on my phone… I'll show you next time. I think I'm supposed to just say hi and go switch with Mom. But I'll come back tomorrow, and show you pictures."

Dean's heart sinks. "You're going?"

Sam nods. "Dr. Abner's instructions. Otherwise I'd be here all night talking your ear off. He says it's important for you to get rest." Sam hugs Dean again. "Tomorrow, okay?"

"You know where to find me," Dean says, winking. His heart breaks a little at the sight of Sam smiling and wiping tears out of his eyes as he heads to the door.

His mom comes in next, already crying. She seems to know a bit better than Sam about not launching herself at someone in a hospital bed, instead grabbing Dean's hand as soon as she reaches him.

"Hey baby," Mary says softly, "how are you feeling?"

"Tired. So sore, and tired. Which I don't get. Shouldn't I be done sleeping for like a _long_ time? A few months, at least. I've really been saving up," Dean says, only half joking. He really _doesn't_ get why he's so tired if he's been unconscious for months.

"Not sure it quite works that way, sweetie."

"All that sleeping for nothing then? If I'd known, I would have gotten up sooner!"

Mary huffs a laugh. "Yep, all that napping was for naught. You could have done something better with your time." Mary's face grows very serious, suddenly.

"Mom?"

"I've read stories and articles about coma patients having terrible nightmares… did you have anything like that?"

"Not that I know of… but I don't know. Things are really fuzzy. I don't even remember most of the day I graduated. My memories are just all jumbled, I don't know how to explain it really."

"It's okay, sweetheart. But if it comes back to you, and you find it's overwhelming, don't be ashamed about asking to speak to a professional, okay? Dr. Abner told us it was important to stress to you that it's okay, _necessary,_ to ask for help when you need it. So I want you to promise me you'll be honest if you're in pain or distressed, alright?"

Dean stares at his mom for a moment. He must be really prideful if she's _this_ worried that he won't speak up. "I promise, Mom."

"Good. Just ignore that stubborn macho streak that you inherited from your father, and everything will be fine," Mary says, smiling and gently patting Dean's cheek. Dean realizes it feels sort of… off.

"Do I have a _beard_?"

Mary grins. "You sure do, baby. I'll bring a mirror for you to have a look tomorrow if you want. But I have to warn you, you're a bit… hm… sickly looking."

"Well don't sugarcoat it."

"Seven months without real food, exercise, or sunlight isn't the _best_ thing for a man's appearance. I'm sure you'll still be a hit with the ladies, kiddo."

Dean feels weird about that. His family says seven months, but for him it feels like it's just been a month since Lisa dumped him, and a week since Alastair assaulted him. Romance is definitely far, far from his mind. He makes a promise to himself that he'll talk to a therapist about what Alastair did if he finds it occupying his thoughts too much.

"Dean?" Mary sounds concerned.

"Sorry, got a bit lost in my head for a sec."

"You okay for your father to come in for a few minutes?"

"Sure, I can do it. Wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, you know how weepy the guy gets," Dean jokes.

Mary laughs, heading out of the room. Dean's father comes in next, straight-backed and strong as always. That lasts right up until Dean croaks out a "Hey, Dad," and then John is crouching next to the bed and sobbing in a way that Dean has never witnessed.

"Always knew I was your favorite," Dean says.

John lets out a loud and startled laugh, clapping a hand down on Dean's shoulder. "Do me a favor, and _never_ tell Ellen about this."

"Barely back from a coma and I already have blackmail material, sweet!"

John grins, squeezing Dean's shoulder gently.

"So," Dean says, "seven months."

"Crazy, huh?"

"That sounds...expensive," Dean says with a frown.

"Hey, don't even start thinking about that, Dean. You're still on my insurance, a lot of this was covered. The physical therapy will be covered, we're not in the poor house over this just yet, kiddo."

Dean sighs. "Most is covered? You gotta tell me, Dad, how are you paying for what _isn't_ covered? Last I checked, we weren't the richest people in Lawrence."

"Well… we have a uh… fund."

"Not Sammy's college fund!"

"No, more like some financial gifts to cover things my insurance wouldn't. From ah… Bobby, Ellen, Samuel," John mutters that last name so low Dean almost misses it.

"You're shitting me."

"Hey, I didn't want it, but your mom damn near tore my head off for letting my ‘macho pride' get in the way of something the family needed, and she had a point. The Winchester Pride wasn't going to pay for a damn thing. So we accepted what Samuel stressed was a _gift,_ not a loan. Half of what he said sounded rehearsed, I get the feeling Deanna coached him in not being an ass."

"Glad I could bring the family together, I really am a miracle worker."

John smiles. "Yep. Even had Samuel, Deanna, Gwen, Mark, and Christian over for Thanksgiving. Bobby and the Harvelles too."

"Damn, that's a shocker."

"They're coming down soon for Christmas too, actually."

"Christmas? What day is it?"

"Today's Saturday. The twenty-first. They'll be coming down on Tuesday… I guess you'll be having a lot of visitors."

"Oh boy," Dean says with a smirk, "presents!"

John gives Dean a once over. "Yeah, maybe I'll see about bringing some uh... hair clippers and scissors in before they get here."

"Is it _that_ bad?"

"You still look like you, son. Just ah… a crack addicted hobo version of you."

"If I could move my arms I'd be slugging you."

John ruffles Dean's hair with a smile, then winces and wipes his hand on his pants.

"Damn, that's greasy. Well, you're flapping your jaw well enough, I'm sure the limbs will follow. Alright, I'm supposed to only stay for a couple of minutes, so I'd better go. But we'll be back tomorrow, so stay on the mend, kiddo."

"Will do, Dad."

John leaves, then pokes his head back in the door. "Don't forget to keep a lid on that whole _crying_ thing, I have a reputation to maintain."

Dean grins. "Mum's the word."

John heads back out, and Dr. Abner returns for more examinations. When Dean asks him for a cheeseburger, the doctor laughs and tells him maybe they'll see about getting him some Jello tomorrow.

Once Dean is alone, he spends a while trying to move. So far it hasn't gotten any easier, but Dr. Abner told him once some of the hospital drugs used in his care start to leave his system, he'll have an easier go of it. He hopes so. This whole not moving thing is uncomfortable.

He feels tired, but he can't seem to fall asleep just yet. He wishes he'd asked someone to switch the TV on, but the little button in his hand is only for emergencies and he probably couldn't push it anyway.

Dean wonders what his friends are up to. He hopes his family will have some information about them. He wants to know that they're alive and healthy if nothing else.

He feels… wrong. There's no other way he can think to describe it. He feels wrong. There's a soul-deep ache, a loneliness that wasn't present before, even after Lisa, even after Alastair. Dean feels like a part of him is missing, and he aches with the loss. He finds it truly unfortunate that he has no idea what the source of the feeling is. He sighs as he realizes he'll be having to talk to a counselor after all.

 

***

 

Sunday is exhausting. He talks to his family, doctors, and the police. It's a busy day.

Sam takes a "before" photo of Dean before John and Mary accost him with barber tools. The beard stays for the time being, but is trimmed and tidied up. His hair is cut to its usual length, but without any mousse, gel, or even a good conditioner, it's a bit on the sad and floppy side. Sam takes an "after" photo as well. Dean wonders if he's making some sort of coma scrapbook.

Sam tells Dean about Thanksgiving, about how Jo carved the turkey, and about how even Samuel laughed when Sam pulled Dean's line at dinner. He tells him about the apple pie that sat in front of Dean's photo for the meal and is now waiting for Dean in the freezer at home. He tells Dean about the odd guy from school that came to the house on Thanksgiving.

"Castiel is cool, though," Sam says. "He even came to visit you once, said your condition reminded him of an aunt."

"Castiel?" Dean asks.

"That's his name."

Dean blinks. "It's a weird name."

"It's the name of an angel, Mr. I'm Named For My Grandmother."

"Touche`."

"Anyway, he kind of… rescued me earlier this semester. I wanted to try to make friends, but, I don't know. He seems to have a group and they're all seniors."

"Woah, woah, back up. Rescued you? What did you need to be rescued from?" Dean wants to gesture as he speaks, but he can't. It's weird trying to emote without the use of his hands.

"Well I was getting picked on and Castiel told the guy to stop. But it was more than anyone _else_ nearby was doing, so…"

"I'd threaten to beat up whoever was picking on you, but really all I can do is give people dirty looks while I pee from the comfort of my bed."

"It's fine, nobody bugs me anymore. It was just some second-year senior and his cronies, but they leave me alone now."

Dean's blood runs cold. He only knows of one senior that got held back from graduating. "What uh… must be someone I know. What was the guy's name?"

"It was… I don't know, something like Allen or Albert… but fancier."

"A-Alastair?"

"Yeah, that sounds right. He's pretty creepy. I got this feeling like he was… I don't know, paying more attention to Castiel after he helped me, but I don't really know what's become of that. Maybe I can find out after break."

"You should stay away from Alastair. He's a… he's a really bad guy."

"You know him?"

Dean wonders if she should just let it out, tell Sam what Alastair did to him, that it's probably why Alastair was even bothering Sam. He can't though. Sam's still just a kid, and Dean is his big brother. He'll tell someone though. A professional. Soon, after Christmas. He'll tell them about being assaulted, and about how he doesn't remember anything after beating Alastair's ass the next day and washing the blood off his hands. He'll tell them he feels like a piece of him is missing, in a way he never felt before the coma. He will.

"Yeah, he's a dick. Creepy too," Dean says.

"I heard he pissed off _all_ of his friends earlier this year, and now they won't talk to him."

"Sounds about right."

 

***

 

Dean takes several naps, and every time he wakes up there's someone else to talk to. His parents, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, doctors. In the evening he wakes up to something very unexpected; a police officer, standing with his parents and Dr. Abner.

"Dean, this is Officer Mills, she has some questions for you," Mary says gently. Is Dean in trouble? For the party? Can't his coma count as time served?

Officer Mills takes in Dean's expression and offers a friendly smile. "You're not in any trouble, I assure you." At Dean's sigh of relief, she turns to the others in the room. "May I have a few minutes alone with Dean?"

Mary leaves reluctantly, followed by John and Dr. Abner.

"So you're not here about the whole underaged drinking thing?" Dean asks nervously.

Officer Mills barks out a laugh, then sobers. "No, but I'm afraid it is a serious matter. Now, from what I've been told, your memory of your fall is pretty much nonexistent?"

Dean nods… or what passes for a nod with him right now. "Yeah, sorry. I've got like… a few flashes of the party, but nothing of my accident."

"Well, as it turns out it wasn't an accident," Officer Mills says gravely.

"What? I was kind of bummed that day, but I wouldn't have thrown myself down the bleachers, ma'am," Dean says, uncomfortable.

"No, no. Dean, you were pushed."

"Woah, _what_?"

"Two nights ago, we had a young man come in and confess all _manner_ of crimes, and some of them involved you. He confessed to shoving you down those bleachers after you stopped him from his attempted assault of a young woman the night of the party. He also confessed to some counts of vandalism, assault, battery, coercion, and several counts of sexual assault, including one assault against you, Dean."

Dean can feel the color leaching out of his face. "Alastair… Alastair really pushed me?"

"According to his confession," Mills says.

"Did you tell my family… about what he did to me?" Dean says, voice barely above a whisper.

"You're eighteen years old, nearly nineteen. I won't tell them anything you don't want me to."

"You can tell them he pushed me, but please don't tell them about the… the... I don't want them to look at me differently."

"I won't," Officer Mills promises, "but when you're ready, I think you should tell them. They're your family, and they want to help you, hon."

Dean sighs in relief. "Officer… I don't remember him pushing me. I won't be able to help your case."

"That's not going to be an issue. He gave a full signed confession, and waived his right to an attorney. But when this all goes before a judge, any details you can provide might help. That's weeks away though. Even when a man barges in and confesses all his sins, justice can be a slow thing. We've been in contact with his other victims today, and I can assure you, Mr. Moorehouse will be going to prison for a good while."

"I don't get it. Why did he confess to all this shit he'd obviously gotten away with?"

"From what I can tell, with his latest attempted victim he bit off more than he could chew. When he came to the station, he had a number of injuries, and looked mighty spooked. Someone put the fear of God in him," Officer Mills says.

Dean grunts. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." Dean pauses, chewing on his bottom lip a moment before speaking again. "Did he… mention anything else? About what happened the day after… after he uh… a-assaulted…"

"Not as far as I know. Was there an additional attack the next day?"

"No, I uh… I went to him. Kind of beat the shit out of him. Which I guess is all kinds of illegal, since it wasn't even self defense by then," Dean babbles.

"Sorry Dean," Officer Mills says, "I didn't hear what you said."

"I said I-"

Officer Mills puts a hand on Dean's wrist, shaking her head. "I'm saying… I didn't hear anything you just said. Any _illegal_ things you might have just said."

Dean blinks at her in surprise. "Yeah I've got a mumbling problem, I think."

"Mhmm."

"Does Alastair know that I'm awake?"

"He doesn't yet, but he'll probably find out sometime soon as things move forward, as far as a hearing goes."

"Okay. That's… okay."

"Alright," Officer Mills says, straightening up. "I'm going to let your parents know what's going on. If you remember any details about your graduation night, please let my department know. Otherwise I'll be in touch some time after the holidays, alright?"

"Okay. Thank you, Officer Mills."

"Jody."

"Thank you, Officer Jody."

Jody laughs, patting Dean on the arm. "You have yourself a great holiday, Dean. Welcome back."

 

***

 

It's maybe fifteen minutes after Jody leaves that his parents and Sam come in.

There's an awkward silence before Sam finally blurts out "I can't believe the school bully tried to kill you!"

"Uh?" Dean says. Who the hell told _Sam_ about this?

John answers Dean's unvoiced thought. "The little twerp was eavesdropping when Officer Mills was filling us in. Didn't catch him until the conversation was about over."

"Well it's my right to know," Sam says matter-of-factly, "Dean's my _brother_."

"Uh huh," John says.

"It really freaks me out that this big thing happened to me, and I don't remember a second of it," Dean says.

"I'm just so thankful to have you back, especially since that man meant you harm," Mary says, shaking her head.

John pats Dean on the shoulder. "It sounds like you were a hero to that Graves girl, son."

"Graves? Tessa Graves?" Dean replies.

John nods. "Yeah, that's her name."

"Fuck. We used to date. I should call her," Dean says, then frowns. "Maybe when I can hold a phone, I'll call her."

"It's going to be a real hoot throwing spitballs at you while you're all immobile," Sam says.

Dean glares. "I'm not _immobile,_ watch this!" His family looks on as he barely wiggles two fingers on his right hand. "See that? Bet you're quaking in your boots now, Hairball."

Sam's responding grin is so big Dean's heart nearly breaks. "It really is good to have you back, Dean."


	21. Gifts For Dean

Christmas is long, tiring, and so full of love that Dean honestly has trouble handling it.

He wakes up, noticeably under the weather, and the on-call staff asks that Dean's visitors come by one or two at a time. His mother comes in first to let him know he has family and several friends on winter break here to see him. He asks to see family first, in case the Campbell clan pisses him off or something. He wants to get it out of the way.

The first ones in are Samuel and Deanna. Samuel looks on the pale side, and Deanna looks tearful.

"Aw, are you that sorry to see me awake?" Dean jokes. Deanna gives a watery smile, and Samuel sucks in a deep breath.

"I was afraid that the last time I saw you… would be the last time I saw you," Samuel says gravely.

"Thanksgiving all those years back, or…"

"The day after Thanksgiving, this year. I'd hurt your mother so much back then, she didn't even want me to visit, to see you. I was so grateful when she had your grandmother and I over this year, when she allowed me back in her home, when she let us come see you. We didn't even come into the room, just watched you through the window, and even that was hard. You were so still, in a way you just weren't meant to be." Samuel shudders, taking in a shaky breath. Dean is floored, he never imagined Samuel to be this open, and he can tell it's taking a lot out of his grandfather to admit any of this.

"You nearly died, and I hadn't seen you in what, five years?" Samuel continues, sounding bitter. "All those years because I let pride and arrogance get in front of the things that really matter in life. If you'd died, your last memory of me would have been of me hurting your mother with my careless words."

"Hey, man, it's-"

"It's important you hear this, Dean. I have a gift for you, and it's this bit of wisdom. Don't ever let _pride_ become more important than the people you love. Your daddy and I are both too stubborn and proud for our own good, so you've got that bullheadedness from both sides of the family. Don't ever let it stand in your way. Pride means shit if it pushes everyone away. Don't ever forget that." Samuel gives Dean's shoulder a firm squeeze before making a hasty exit.

Deanna clicks her tongue in annoyance. "That man, I swear. Gives you a big speech about the follies of pride and then excuses himself because he's too proud to let anyone see him cry."

"That was one hell of a gift," Dean says, staring at the door.

Deanna chuckles. "He was just being dramatic, our real gift is a memory foam mattress for when you get home. Those things helped with your granddaddy's back aches, so I think it'll be good for your muscle recovery."

Dean's jaw drops. "That sounds… expensive."

"What's the point of guilt if you can't get a few spendy gifts out of it?" Deanna says, grinning.

 

***

 

Gwen comes in next, she tells Dean about how things are going at the tattoo shop, and about her recent weekend in the drunk tank for starting a bar brawl. Her gift to Dean is a portable DVD player, and a special edition Back to the Future trilogy box set. She needles Dean about getting his arms up and running so he can actually operate the player. Dean's always liked Gwen the best.

Christian brings Dean a 2014 car calendar, and somehow an innocuous conversation about Christian's new girlfriend Arlene turns into an argument about why Dean can't keep a woman. Dean's always liked Christian the least.

Mark is, as usual, fairly quiet. He flips on the television and they watch the last twenty or so minutes of A Christmas Story. The break in conversation is very welcome after Christian's visit. On his way out Mark casually gives Dean a new watch that must have set him back a few hundred bucks like it's no big deal.

 

***

 

Dean drifts off to sleep for a while, and when he wakes up, Jo is in a chair next to his bed, watching A Christmas Story.

"This is on again?" Dean mumbles.

Jo turns and smiles. "Twenty-four hour marathon, remember?"

"Oh, right. Good old TBS. So how are you, kiddo?"

"Helluva lot better than I was earlier this year, that's for sure. Missed you, Dean."

Dean scoffs. "Like you even noticed me in my little coma while you were off at college dorming it up and streaking on campus."

"I almost didn't even go. I wanted to be around… in case you woke up."

"I would've been pretty mad if you'd done that, I think."

"Yeah, that's what Sam kept saying. It was hard leaving, knowing you were in this hospital. Knowing I couldn't call you to talk about what it was like being out of Lawrence, or tell you about the loser college guys, or my unexpected make out session with another girl," Jo says, sighing.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Okay just kidding about the girl part."

Dean pouts. "That's just mean."

Jo abruptly starts to cry.

"Aw, Jo, hey. Come on, I'm up now," Dean says, feeling helpless. He can't even reach out to her.

"I _saw you_ , Dean. When they were wheeling you out of the school. You'd gotten cut up on the jagged parts of those stupid old bleachers when you fell, your arm was broken, you must have fallen hard because your face was bruised and swollen on one side… and you wouldn't wake up. I screamed your name over and over, and you wouldn't wake up, Dean."

"Hey… look, I can't really hug you, Jo. You're going to have to do the work."

Jo crawls into Dean's bed, throwing her arms around him and sobbing her heart out.

"It's alright, Joanna Beth, I'm here now," Dean says.

"If you call me that again, I'll blow my damn nose on your hospital gown," Jo says, sniffling.

"That so, Joanna Beth?"

Jo makes good on her word, leaning against Dean's chest and holding the fabric against her nose before blowing snot onto it. Dean is pretty disgusted.

"I can't _believe_ you actually did that, Jo. I can't even clean this!" Dean whines.

Jo smiles. "Looks like you learned an important lesson, huh? Hey, I got something to add to that gift pile you've got going on the end table."

"From Santa?!"

Jo holds up a wrapped gift that reads ‘To: Dean, Love: Santa'. "Yep. From Santa. Guess I should unwrap it, huh. Nobody mentioned the whole muscle atrophy thing to me until I got here."

"I can wiggle my fingers!"

Jo snorts and pulls the wrapping open, sticking the bow onto Dean's chest just above the spot with the cooling snot on it. Inside a plain box is a block of wood, about the size of a magazine. Jo flips the piece of wood over and Dean sucks in an awed breath. There's a forest, intricately carved into the wood, with a road running right through it. On the road sits what is unmistakably Dean's car, carved in amazing detail.

Dean's never seen such a detailed scene carved into wood before, he's beyond impressed. "Jesus, Jo. How long did this take you?"

"Weeks," Jo says proudly. "This was supposed to be a graduation gift. I knew school wasn't always your thing, and that you'd given serious thought to dropping out more than once, but you stuck with it and I was so proud of you. I was going to give you this after the party, but then you had to go and fall down the damn bleachers. Anyway it used to be just the car on here, but I kept it with me at school, and brought out my wood burning kit and carving knife whenever I had a good chunk of free time. I kept adding to it until I had this. I'm so happy I can finally give it to you."

"This is incredible, Jo. You're amazing."

"Damn _right_ , and I'll have you know I did an excellent job carving up the turkey last month, too."

"No shit?"

"I even dedicated my expert job to you."

"I'm honored," Dean says dramatically. After a brief pause, he sighs. "Listen, you're going to hear about this eventually, I might as well be the one to tell you… and you can tell the others I guess. It turns out I didn't fall. I was pushed. Alastair pushed me. I didn't even know, because I don't remember shit from that night, but I guess he showed up at the police station the other night and confessed a shit ton of crimes and I was one of them."

Jo's mouth is hanging open. "Jesus fucking Christ. Is he locked up? Because if he's not I'm going to go kill him right fucking now."

"Nah, he's locked up. I don't know why the fuck he suddenly confessed to a bunch of shit though. Maybe he found religion or something."

Jo snorts, then groans. "Damn, I've stayed way longer than I was supposed to. I should keep this train moving, you've still got plenty of groupies waiting to come in and see you."

"It's like I have worshippers!" Dean says excitedly.

Jo kisses Dean on the forehead. "Just what you needed. I guess I should tell the nurse that you need a new gown."

"Ugh, yes please, this wet spot feels disgusting."

Jo sends the nurse in, and Dean suffers red-faced while the nurse, who bears a striking resemblance to his mother when she was younger, gives him a sponge bath and changes his hospital gown to one free of snot.

Dean's next visitor is Ellen, who points out the nurse's resemblance to Mary and laughs for over two full minutes when Dean blurts out that she'd just given him a sponge bath. Ellen tells Dean about her job at the school, about how it's not as bad as she thought it would be, and she might even stay on another year. She says being able to yell at teenagers and order them around is oddly therapeutic, and she's not as wound up during her shifts at The Roadhouse. Her gift for Dean is an iPod, loaded with an array of songs picked out by Sam and Jo. Dean has always scoffed at iPods, but now he's excited to have one. Hospitals are _boring_ , and any distraction is alright by him.

 

***

 

Bobby comes in next, brandishing a device that is apparently used for charging an iPod, and an additional power cord for the DVD player.

"I saw what Ellen and your cousin got for you, and figured those idjits wouldn't have thought about how you were going to keep an iPod and a DVD player charged from a damn hospital bed," Bobby says.

Dean grins. Bobby's always like this with gifts. Always getting useful items no one else would consider. When Dean's parents got him a remote control car for his eighth birthday, Bobby was the one who got him a battery charger and two packs of rechargeable batteries. Dean had been mystified by the gift choice until his car's batteries had died half an hour after he started playing with it.

"Did you see what movies Gwen brought me? Back to the Future! Classic movies."

"She's got good taste for a Campbell, huh?"

"Hey, what about Mom's taste? She picked Dad."

"Exactly," Bobby says with a grimace.

Dean laughs in a way that makes his body sore all over. Bobby looks a mix of proud and concerned, but Dean assures him he's fine.

 

***

 

Dean's next visitors are Victor and Garth. Victor blusters on about how Dean needs to get his lazy ass out of bed already, while Garth cries and hugs Dean so hard that Victor has to pull him off. The gift they bring is from both of them and from the absent Benny, a leather jacket that looks like it costs more than the rest of Dean's wardrobe combined. Garth sadly informs Dean that his old jacket had too many bad rips and blood spatters after his fall, and that it had been trashed. They say that Benny had given them the idea of pooling their cash on a replacement once he heard Dean was awake. It's not as big and comforting as his dad's old leather jacket, but it has a rich reddish-brown color, and Dean can already tell he's going to look pretty awesome in it.

 

***

 

Charlie stares at Dean for a long time when she first walks in. Just stares and stares, and while Dean wants to say something to her he doesn't want to interrupt whatever thought process she's working through.

"Jo told me about Alastair, that he pushed you."

"That's what the cops said, anyway."

Charlie's eyes are watering already. "Up until an hour ago, I thought this all happened because you were stupid when you were drunk, and screwing around alone on those rickety, jagged, probably code-violating bleachers that finally got replaced after you bled all over them. I was so mad at you, for going and getting yourself hurt because you couldn't hold your damn booze, and it turns out it was never anything like that. I was mad at you for _months_ before I realized how ridiculous I was being to be angry at you over an accident… and then I find out it wasn't even that. Someone did this to you, and I was angry at the wrong person all this time."

"Aw, Charlie…"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I mean I know you weren't even awake to know I was mad at you all summer, but I just feel _awful._ "

"Come on, kiddo. Don't beat yourself up over this. Getting drunk and falling down some bleachers wouldn't exactly be out of character for me."

Charlie seems more worked up instead of less. "That doesn't mean you would have deserved me being mad at you for months! And I was, Dean. I was _so_ damn angry… and all this time I should have been tracking down Moorehouse and ruining his life for taking you away from us. From _me._ You were my first kiss for fuck's sake!"

Dean groans at that. "Oh _God,_ don't even remind me. That was fucking terrible."

Charlie grins, wiping tears from her eyes with her sleeve. "Most awkward moment of my life, but you were a real trooper with that whole… helping me suss out my sexuality thing."

"Honestly, I totally assumed that the kiss was going to prove you were straight, or maybe bi, and that we would end up making out. Instead it was like a blackhole devoid of any sexual chemistry. I was afraid to kiss anyone for _months_ after that."

Charlie looks at Dean with total affection. "Well, it really helped me figure some things out. Well, that and… Jo."

"Woah, what? _Jo_?! You kissed Jo?!"

"Well I had to see if I liked kissing girls, didn't I?"

"How was it?"

"It was much, much better."

"Oh okay, so when a lesbian kisses a guy, it creates an avalanche of awkwardness, but when a lesbian kisses a straight girl… fireworks?"

"She was into it!"

"What? When _was_ this?!"

"It was the day after you and I had our terrible, terrible kiss. I mean she wasn't suddenly into chicks after, but she was into the kiss, it was much better than ours," Charlie says, sounding smug.

"I'm not a bad kisser if _that's_ what you're saying. It's not my fault I saw you as more of a sister… or maybe a cousin…"

"Okay, so you saw me as a sister, but you were hoping we'd make out? _Really,_ Dean."

"Dude, I was like fourteen and you weren't _actually_ my sister, I was all for getting to kiss someone. I'm much more mature now, and don't let my dick make all my decisions."

"You don't?"

"Nope, it only makes like… ninety percent of my decisions now."

Charlie laughs, and the sound is music to Dean's ears. "I don't know how you manage to turn my frown upside-down so easily, but you do, you always do. God, I've missed you."

"People keep saying that to me today, you'd think I've been gone for months or something," Dean says. "See, normally I'd nudge you playfully, but I can't yet. So, nudge. Nudge, nudge."

"Dork. Oh! Speaking of dorks," Charlie says, pulling out her gift for Dean. It's her Hermione bobble head, a trinket Charlie won in some Harry Potter fan contest a few years back and grew oddly attached to. "I know you don't give a rat's ass about Harry Potter, but I wanted you to borrow it. _Borrow_. Borrow, as it I will want this back. After you're better. There have been times when I felt lost, or hopeless, and I'd look at this and wonder how Hermione would handle it, and I'd feel a bit better. I know the character doesn't mean the same thing to you as she does to me, but I want her with you anyway. Just for extra support."

"Wow, Charlie. This is a big deal… thank you."

" _And…_ I saw what Gwen got you earlier, so I ran off to Wal-Mart… man I can't believe they had people working on Christmas, poor bastards… anyway, I got you… _this_!" Charlie plunks down a box set with all eight Harry Potter movies on the table in Dean's room.

Dean groans, Charlie has been trying to get him to read the books or at least watch the movies for ages. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

"Nope! And you're _going_ to watch these, Dean, because this box set was fucking expensive."

"You've just been biding your time, waiting for an opportunity like this, I know it," Dean says.

"You'll have fun. I mean the books are better, but these will do. And since you'll be watching them on your own, you won't even have to deal with me telling you everything the movies did wrong!"

"What a deal!"

"You're so fortunate to have me as a friend," Charlie says. She straightens up, preparing to leave.

"Can you do me a favor before you go?" Dean asks.

"Of course."

"Put the box set under that jacket. If Sam sees it, he'll _insist_ on watching with me."

Charlie grins, covering the box set with Dean's new jacket before she goes.

 

***

 

Dean's next visitors are his parents. They give him hugs, ask how he's doing, and give him that same look as everyone else today. That look like they're eagerly devouring the sight of him awake and talking. It makes Dean's heart ache.

They give him their gift, a photo of his new bed frame at home, complete with the mattress his grandparents bought. The bed looks to be king sized, with an ornate mahogany headboard, and a plaid comforter set that Dean thinks might be flannel. It's a far cry from the double mattress on a metal frame Dean's had for several years. Dean wishes he were home already, the bed looks very comfortable.

"We were talking to Dr. Abner," Mary says, "and it will probably a while before we can take you home, but we wanted you to know you have this waiting for you. It was your grandfather's idea for the memory foam, apparently he has one at home and loves it."

"We got the frame yesterday," John adds, "it's nicer than ours. I told your mother maybe we should just keep it and let it be our dirty secret that the bed was supposed to be for you."

Dean sticks his tongue out at his father. "So, Sam must be pretty jealous."

"Right now he's just glad to have his brother back," Mary says.

"So how long am I going to be in here?" Dean asks.

"Well, until you regain a healthy amount of mobility. The good news is there is physical therapy available here, so we won't have to hunt down some long term care center… but you need to be here until you can either walk somewhat, or operate a wheelchair," Mary says.

"That sounds…"

Mary pets a hand through Dean's hair. "I know, honey. I know. But Dean, you're so lucky. You don't have any brain damage as far as they can tell, you can _talk_ easily, and those are good, wonderful things. Some people have to learn how to talk and eat all over again. You just need to get your muscles to learn to wake up and listen."

"She's right, son," John says, "You're in for some tough times, but… you were shoved down some shitty old bleachers and didn't break your neck. You woke up, with most of your memory, and all of your language skills intact. Try to remember this is a good thing. This is so much better than what could have happened, never forget how lucky you are."

Dean nods minutely. "Wow, alright then. So… look, I know I've only been up a handful of hours, but could you send Sam in? I'm _exhausted._ "

"I'm impressed you lasted this long, kid. We'll send your brother in, and see you tomorrow," John says. Dean's parents leave, and Sam comes in shortly after.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," Sam says brightly.

"Hey squirt. Looks like we saved the best for last."

"Damn right. Mom and Dad said you're pretty tired."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was trying to hold on, but damn. So fucking tired."

"It's okay. I'll be here tomorrow. I just want to give you your gift. It's uh… it's nothing fancy. I bought it off of Bobby," Sam says, sounding unsure. He pulls a thick black cord out of his pocket. At the end of the cord is an amulet, made of a brassy sort of metal. It's the head of some sort of deity, it looks pretty cool. Dean's never seen anything like it.

Sam sets the amulet on the end table with the other gifts. "I saw it when Bobby was having a rummage sale over the summer. He said it's for protection and strength, but I don't know if he was just bullshitting me. Anyway I bought it for you, but the hospital staff wouldn't let me put it on you while you were still out. I asked earlier, and they said you can wear it once you can move your arms again. I guess it could be considered a choking hazard and you need to be able to get it off on your own in case of an emergency. I don't know. Anyway, Merry Christmas!"

Dean beams. "Thank you Sam, I love it. I'll put it on just as soon as I'm able."

Sam hugs Dean, then makes his way out the door. Dean stays awake long enough to answer a few questions on how he's doing from a nurse before he's out like a light.

 

***

 

It doesn't feel like he's been asleep long when Dean wakes up next. He startles as he opens his eyes and realizes someone is kneeling next to his bed, holding his hand.

"Tessa?"

Tessa's head shoots up, her eyes are a mess of mascara and tears. "Dean."

"How… how are you?" Dean asks. There's a tense energy in the room that's making him uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Tessa sobs.

"Woah, what? Why are _you_ sorry?"

"I had my suspicions about Alastair, about your _accident,_ " Tessa practically spits the word out, "but I didn't say anything. You _saved_ me, and I was too scared to tell the police that I suspected your fall wasn't just some unfortunate luck. I just… I thought if I accused Alastair, and I was _wrong,_ or they couldn't prove it… that he… that he'd…"

"Tessa," Dean interrupts, "I know Alastair. I'm very, very familiar with how terrifying he can be. I understand you being afraid of retaliation. It's okay, Tessa. I don't even remember what happened, honestly."

"I was… having sort of an introspective moment at the bleachers. School ending and all. I didn't even hear him come over. I guess I was just really wrapped up in my own thoughts. He started talking out of the blue, I don't even remember what about, but I told him I wanted to be left alone and that's when he attacked… and I screamed… and then you were barrelling in out of nowhere, pulling Alastair away and telling me to run. You saved me Dean, and I never got to thank you."

"Tessa…"

"Thank you, Dean." Tessa kisses Dean on the forehead before more or less fleeing the room. It's not long before Dean falls asleep again.


	22. Stasis

It doesn't take too long for Dean to regain mobility in his arms. By New Year's Eve, Dean can operate his DVD player and wear his necklace from Sam. His arms and hands shake and tire easily, but at least they're obeying him, unlike his legs. His toes will wiggle, but he can't exactly stand up or walk or do a flying roundhouse kick or anything fun like that.

His doctor assures him that he's progressing quickly though, so he tries to keep that in mind. When his arms are a little stronger, they'll start on the more intensive physical therapy, which probably involves hanging onto those weird bars Dean's seen in medical shows and trying to walk.

Now that the holidays have passed, Dean's constant stream of visitors has started to thin out. His friends have headed out of Kansas and back to school, the Campbells have gone back to Kansas City, and Dean's parents are back at work, working to pay off the damn hospital stay. Dean can practically see the Winchester family sinking into debt. Insurance covers a lot, but what it doesn't cover still costs a pretty penny. Dean can't wait to get better, so he can get a job and help pay for all this shit. At least Sam's college fund is still intact, Sam says that someday he'll be a rich and powerful lawyer, and that if there are any medical bills left by then he'll take care of them. Dean doesn't have the heart to mention that Sam will probably be busy paying off law school for years.

He's in the middle of complaining about the expense to Sam when Sam's phone rings.

"Aren't you supposed to have those _off_ in a hospital?" Dean chides. Sam just shushes him and answers.

"Hi! You're just in time! No, you're not interrupting, Dean is just being a big martyr over hospital expenses."

Dean scowls, and Sam just smiles cheerfully, handing Dean his phone. Dean is perplexed, but takes the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey brother," an accented, and very familiar voice says.

"Benny!" Dean grins. Sam excuses himself so they can talk. Dean leans back against his bed, making it easier to hold the phone up to his ear. "How's basic training?"

"Exhausting, believe it or not. How's coma recovery?"

"Exhausting, believe it or not. No, really. It's exhausting. I'm tired all the time, it's ridiculous. Wow, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you yet!" Dean's never had a thing for Benny exactly, but he's always liked his voice. He's never told Benny though, the teasing would never stop.

"Well, I've been a good boy, earned a little more than a two minute phone call for once."

" _You've_ been a good boy?" Dean asks, incredulous.

"Had some incentive. You're a real dick, waking up right after I finally get carted off to basic training."

"I didn't want to have to give you a ride to the airport, man."

"Lazy ass," Benny says. Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

"So, I don't know if you've heard, but contrary to popular belief, I didn't tumble down the bleachers on my own, in case you've been thinking I'm a great big idiot this whole time."

"Woah, what? I don't get much info out here, what's the story?"

"Fuckin' Alastair _shoved_ me."

"Moorehouse?! Are you shittin' me?!"

"Not even the weirdest part, man."

"How is that not the weirdest part?"

"I don't even remember him doing it, that whole night is a blur. I found out because he turned _himself_ in the night I woke up. He doesn't even know I'm awake, it was just some weird-ass coincidence… and no one knows exactly what compelled him to confess all his dirty sins, of which there were many. Battery, vandalism, sexual assault, all kinds of fucked up shit."

Benny lets out a low, amazed whistle. "Holy shit. I mean the guy always gave me the willies, but… wow."

"Fuckin' crazy. He's denied counsel and everything. He like… _wants_ to go to prison for his crimes."

"Maybe he found religion or something."

"It's been suggested, but I'm not really inclined to ask."

"So why the fuck did he push you?"

"I feel weird talking about something I don't even remember, but the story goes that I stopped him from hurting Tessa, and he retaliated."

"So you rescued Tessa and got a coma for your troubles?"

"So they say."

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you," Benny says, then sighs. "Okay I'm getting the stink-eye from my superior officer, I guess time's up."

"I thought you earned extra phone time?"

"Hey, I never said it was a significant amount, just more. Take care, Dean."

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but the line goes dead. They really don't fuck around in the military, damn. He sets the phone on the bed and waits for Sam to come back. Barely five minutes pass before he's asleep.

 

***

 

Dean sleeps well into the morning and dreams of sad, blue eyes.

 

***

 

The day after his nineteenth birthday, Dean takes three shaky steps before collapsing. His father and his physical therapist both rush to his aid, but Dean just rolls onto his back and laughs.

 

***

 

By the time Dean goes home in March, Alastair is in prison for all kinds of charges, and will be there for fifteen years at minimum. Aside from his therapist, Dean hasn't told anyone about the sexual assault, and was incredibly relieved that the case required little participation from him. He doesn't know why Alastair practically threw himself in prison and shunned any sort of defense, but he's grateful to be rid of him for the next decade and a half.

The therapy sessions have been helpful, Dean soon finds it's a blessing to have an unbiased person to unload on. It feels good to get out that he was assaulted, even if he leaves the details a bit vague. It feels good to tell someone that he hates that it will be a long time before he can work, that he hates feeling like a burden on his family, that he hates the way his steps are too slow, and not worry that he's going to ruin their day. Dr. Sands is used to hearing this kind of shit, and she has no personal connection to Dean, he can be as honest as he needs without feeling like she's going to cry and it will be all his fault. So he tells her all his frustrations, his dismay about the excessive amount of sleep he _still_ needs, the recurring dreams of tearful blue eyes, and that feeling he can't shake like he's missing something fundamental, something right under his nose.

Dr. Sands, or Josie like she keeps reminding him to call her, hypothesizes that perhaps what Dean is missing is simply that period of time right around his fall that he still can't remember, but it feels deeper than that. Dean also discards the theory that the ache is tied to the fact that his friends are all off on their own. Dean _does_ hurt over that, but it's a hurt he's aware of, it's not this nameless thing he feels constantly at his core. When Dean suggested that maybe he just missed driving his car, Dr. Sands had smiled softly and nodded her head, saying anything is possible.

Any of the theories could be true, but none of them feel right.

He lies in his still-new and insanely comfortable bed on his first night home and mulls it all over. Theories about his car, his friends, and the week of his fall don't feel accurate, but Dean knows he's missing something very, very important.

Dean just can't help but feel like there's somewhere he's supposed to be.

 

***

 

It's a quiet day in April. Dean's reading the third Harry Potter book in his bed when Sam comes in and plops down next to him. Sam has been driving to and from school every so often. It's kind of a secret from their parents; Sam's not actually legally allowed to drive without a licensed driver in the car, but he's _Sam,_ so he's a perfect motorist.

"You put gas in the car?" Dean asks. He doesn't look up from his book, but he can practically hear Sam roll his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah."

"That rattling noise start up again?"

"No, come on man, the car is fine."

"Hey, I love that car okay? You've gotta be good to her until I can drive again."

"You're the one that said I should be using her now that I can drive! I'd rather have a car with less emotional responsibilities, thanks."

"Tough shit, squirt," Dean says, setting his book down.

"I'm pretty sure I'm too old and too tall to be called things like ‘squirt', Dean," Sam grumbles.

"Tough shit, champ," Dean says. At Sam's glare he just grins. "So, did Lenore like the bracelet you got her?"

"Yes and no."

"Why no?"

"I'm an idiot. Her birthday is _tomorrow,_ " Sam says forlornly.

Dean slaps his forehead with his palm. "Oh, Sam…"

"Hey! If a girl talks about getting a birthday dinner with her parents, I think it's okay to assume it's happening _on_ her actual birthday!"

"Oh, _Sam._ "

"She thought I'd like… made plans for us tomorrow."

"You're _killing me._ "

"I spent all my money on the bracelet, so she's taking us out for dinner and a movie tomorrow."

Dean hits himself lightly with his book, letting out a groan. "I am so embarrassed for you I might actually start crying."

"Well, she loved the charm bracelet, and didn't dump me, so I'm calling this a win."

"Spoken like a true Winchester. Hey, when you tell Dad about this, record it on video, okay? I bet he starts crying."

"You're such a jerk, Dean!"

"Bet you're sorry I woke up, huh?"

Sam gives Dean the biggest frown Dean has ever seen on anyone's face ever. "I don't like it when you do that, when you say things like it would have been better if you were still in a hospital bed, dead to the world."

"Sam, I was just-"

"I know. Mom says it's a coping mechanism. But Dean, you were gone. My big brother was gone. It was the worst time in my life, trying to be strong and act normal and go to school every day while you were _gone._ You've gone through a lot of stuff I might not be able to understand, I know, but when you say things like that… I mean you're not joking about some hypothetical thing, you're joking about the the worst time in my life."

Dean's so ashamed he actually blushes. "Shit, Sammy."

"I just… thought I should say something. I've been told it's bad to let this sort of thing fester."

"I'll try to cut down on that kind of joke," Dean promises.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam says, chewing on his bottom lip. He obviously has more to say.

"Something else on your mind?"

"Yeah it's just… am I allowed to talk about you at school? I just mean… people ask about you, and I always just say you're doing okay, and I don't really go into it, because I don't know if it's too private or not."

"It's cool if you talk about me, man. I mean nothing _too_ private. No one needs to know about me slipping in the shower my third day home and having to call you in for help… but you know. Regular stuff is fine. Are people really asking about me?"

"Yeah, my friends, and Lenore, and Castiel, he asks a lot."

"Castiel… the kid that stood up to Alastair for you, right?"

"Yeah, him. I try to talk to him when I see him. He looks really _sad_ these days," Sam says, frowning, "but he always asks about you. Maybe knowing you're doing better makes him feel hopeful?"

"Maybe you should ask why he's so sad?"

"I _did,_ I'm not an _idiot,_ Dean. He told me that a friend of his fell out of touch. I don't know, I only see him hang out with his study friends, and none of them have gone anywhere, so I don't know who he lost touch with. They must have been close though, since he's so bummed. I asked Lenore and she thinks maybe he had a long distance girlfriend and they broke up. It just really makes me sad even though I don't really know him. He looks so lost, all the time. A few weeks ago I was taking pictures of everyone with my phone… just for fun. Stop looking at me like that, it was fun, it's what kids do. Anyway I took his photo and he _smiled_ right? But you can just tell it doesn't reach his eyes. Hold on, I'll show you." Sam digs out his phone and Dean leers at him.

"So you have a lot of photos of random guys on your phone then, huh?"

"Shut it," Sam says, fiddling with his phone. After a moment, he hands it to Dean.

Dean looks at the picture. The guy really does look fucking lost. Cute, but lost. He feels like he owes something to this kid for helping out Sam with Alastair, so he wants to give Sam some good advice, but nothing is coming to mind. Dean spares a moment to think how caring a guy Sam has grown into, it makes him proud.

"He looks sorta familiar," Dean says absently, zooming in on the photo. "Do I know him?"

"Nah, he moved here after your fall, you've never met him."

"That's so weird," Dean mutters, "I feel like I…"

It hits him like a ton of bricks, and he drops Sam's phone.

"Dean?"

Suddenly it's all there. All of it. The party, the confrontation with Alastair, Jo screaming his name, wandering the school invisible, watching and falling in love with the boy with the deep blue eyes, nights spent in the shed, absolutely destroying the library and threatening to kill Alastair. It's all right there and Dean can't fucking believe he forgot any of it. Castiel James Shurley. _Cas._

The piece of himself that Dean's been missing since his eyes slid open in that hospital room finally, finally falls into place.


	23. The Missing Piece

Before he knows what's happening, Dean is grabbing a frightened Sam by the arms. "Do you know where Castiel lives?"

"N-no, I…"

Dean grabs Sam's phone, standing. "I need you to take me somewhere. Go get the keys, I'll be by the car." He rushes out of the room, grabbing his leather jacket and making his way to the garage. His legs are shaky, but his steps are swifter than they've been since he started walking again. He pulls up the browser on Sam's phone and searches the White Pages website for Chuck Shurley.

Four months. Four _months_ of feeling like there was a piece of himself missing, and he finds it in the damn iPhone Sam got for Christmas.

Sam comes hurrying out the door, accompanied by the sound of keys. Dean plugs the address for Charles and Rebecca Shurley into a website for directions and waits for Sam to unlock his door. As soon as they're buckled in, Dean is barking out directions. Sam is understandably freaked, but driving carefully.

"Would you tell me where we're going?" Sam asks, eyes on the road. "Are we going to Castiel's?"

"Yes." Dean doesn't mean to be so short, but he's freaking out. He's been awake for four fucking months, why the hell hadn't Cas come looking for him? Especially if he's apparently been so sad? Maybe he was waiting. Maybe Cas was waiting for Dean and Dean never came, because he didn't fucking remember. He's so frustrated he could scream.

"Why?" Sam asks, breaking Dean out of his thoughts. "What's going on? Why do you have to go there? Jesus, Dean. I don't think he's a suicide risk or something."

"Just keep driving, Sam!" Dean growls. Coming up with an apology and an explanation for his behavior is going to be a bitch, but that's tomorrow's problem.

"You look like a crazy person!" Sam snaps.

Dean looks down. Sam is kind of right. Under his leather jacket, Dean's wearing a black t-shirt with the Deathly Hallows symbol, green plaid pajama pants, and a pair of slippers made to look like big orange monster feet, complete with claws. He hasn't shaved in days, and his hair is probably a mess from his last nap. He really _must_ look like a crazy person.

"Why the hell did you let me leave the house like this?" Dean yells. Sam opens his mouth to reply, but Dean just hisses more directions at him. If the situation wasn't so fucked, Dean would be laughing at how ridiculous this all is.

When they arrive at the listed address, Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and tosses the phone into Sam's lap. "Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I'll call you to come pick me up later."

"Are you _kidding_? Is this a joke? I'm not dropping you off in your _pajamas_ at the house of this depressed person you don't even know!"

"Sam," Dean says gravely, "just trust me, okay? This is really, really important."

Sam gives Dean a dubious glare. "I'm putting a lot of faith in you here."

"Okay."

"I'm coming back in ninety minutes whether you call or not."

Dean sighs. "Fine." He scrambles out of the Impala, slapping the roof with his palm when the door is closed in a clear "okay go away now" signal. He hears Sam make some sort of frustrated sound before driving away.

Dean hurries up the driveway. There's just one car visible, and music coming from the garage. From the information Dean gathered in the past, he takes it to mean that Anna is at home and painting. He's about to knock on the front door when it swings open, and a man almost walks straight into him. He's never seen this guy before, but he knows instinctively that he's standing in front of Castiel's brother, Gabriel. Gabriel stares at Dean, eyebrows raised.

"Is um… is Castiel home?" Dean croaks out.

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Dean."

"Why are you in your jammies, Dean?" Gabriel says, not moving out of the way. Why isn't he moving out of the way?! _Cas_ is in that house.

"I was kind of in a hurry."

"Uh huh. Look, I'm late for work. Cassiepoo's room is upstairs, second door on the right. Don't steal any of our shit, Dean," Gabriel says brusquely. He narrows his eyes and Dean takes a step back, staring slightly slack-jawed at Gabriel as he walks to his car, then turns and shoos Dean inside with his hand.

 

 

Once he's closed the front door behind himself, Dean rushes up the stairs, gripping the handrail, before he can change his mind.

He knocks on Castiel's door, and shivers skitter down his spine when he hears a disgruntled "Go to work, Gabriel. I'm not giving you the rest of my Skittles." He fights the urge to sob or vomit.

" _Cas,_ " Dean mutters brokenly. He hears an odd choked off whimper, then what sounds a great deal like a piece of furniture being knocked over, then a brief rush of footsteps before the door is flung open and _Cas_ is there, still in his usual white oxford, blue sweatervest, and khakis, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Dean, what…"

"Cas," Dean says again. They stare at each other for what feels like a long, long time. Dean doesn't know what to say now that he's here. He's about to try saying "hello" when his legs completely give out under him and Castiel rushes forward to catch him.

"Months of physical therapy, and the damn things just kind of give up on me sometimes," Dean says quietly. Castiel drags him over to his bed, helping Dean sit down and getting him propped up against the wall with his legs stretched out.

Castiel bites his lower lip, not looking Dean in the eye anymore. "Why are you here?"

"I forgot," Dean says.

"You forgot why you're here?"

"No, I forgot… I forgot everything that happened… at the school. In my coma. But I had this _hole_ , Cas. After I woke up there was this great big hole inside me, and some days I thought it was going to eat me alive, and I couldn't figure out what it was, what was missing."

Castiel is standing next to the bed, staring at Dean. He's shaking.

Dean continues. "Then Sammy… he was talking about this guy he knew that looked so lost all the time, and he showed me a picture on his phone, and it was you… and then it all came back. Seven months of memories in the blink of an eye. So I made Sam drive me here."

Castiel looks like he's trying hard not to cry. "In your pajamas?"

"I was in a hurry."

"The slippers are cute."

"They were a gift."

"And the shirt. I didn't know you were a Harry Potter fan."

"There wasn't much to do when I was in the hospital. I might have picked up a few new interests. Watched a few Harry Potter movies… maybe received the books as a birthday gift."

"It's a fun series," Castiel says blandly. Dean reaches out, grabbing Castiel's hand and lacing their fingers together. "You're warm." Castiel sounds awed. "You weren't...before."

"This feels different, for sure. Everything feels weird right now. When I woke up… I just felt like I was missing a few days. I didn't remember what it was like being invisible, or how touching you skin to skin felt like I was feeling everything through several inches of fabric, how everything I heard sounded like I was hearing through a straw. But I remember it now, and it's like it all just happened. Jesus fuck, everything feels so _real_." Dean is aware that he sounds stoned, but he doesn't know how else to put it.

"It is real. Wow, you're real. You're here. Oh God, Dean. You're _here._ "

Dean barely has to tug before Castiel is crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him. They're face to face, laying on their sides and clinging to each other. Dean thinks of the times when they did this in the shed, how Dean had wished he could feel more of it, wished he could warm Castiel up with his body on the cold nights.

"I missed you, Dean," Castiel murmurs into Dean's neck. "I wanted to see you after I found out you were awake, but I thought… either you didn't remember me, or you just didn't want to see me… now that things are different. Now that I'm not the only one you can touch."

Dean squeezes Castiel tight. "I missed you so fucking much, Cas. Even when I didn't remember you, I missed you every fucking day. I'm just as in love with you as I was the last time I saw you."

Castiel sobs, then lets out a weird chuckle. "You're back in my life for ten minutes and I'm already crying."

"I just bring out the best in you."

"I can't believe you're in my room," Castiel says.

"We can go to the shed, if that would be more comfortable…"

Castiel hugs Dean even tighter. "School hasn't been the same without you."

"I think if I followed you around all day now, people would notice."

"I bet you never want to see that place again."

Dean shrugs slightly. "I don't know, I am curious about the state of the library. Sam mentioned that it had been ‘trashed', but since I didn't remember that it was all _my_ doing, I didn't really follow up on the story."

"They had to replace the ceiling entirely, but I think the wall was repaired with less expensive methods. I can see the spackle in places. Oh and the librarian quit. A few too many traumatic experiences, I guess."

"Good," Dean says. "Who replaced him?"

"They have an outside hire for during school hours right now, but Adler took over the after school portion."

"Zachariah? He's such an ass."

"I have him this semester for Calculus. He's very…"

"Smarmy?" Dean supplies.

"That's a good way to put it."

God, Dean can't believe they're in Castiel's room together, just talking about school like it's a normal day. "So… how are you doing in school, Cas? Sam said you seem really… sad. Really lost."

"I was. I was lost without you, as stupid as that sounds."

"Aw, Cas…"

"I mean… I'm still passing my classes, it's not like I stopped _functioning_ , I was just… sad. It's been a weird time for me. We weren't together anymore, but we hadn't broken up. You were gone, but you weren't dead or in another city. It was just… I thought sometimes that maybe it was that I lacked closure, but when it comes down to it, I just missed you," Castiel says, exhaling shakily. "It feels good to get that out."

"Talking shit out really does help. I've been in therapy for months."

"Therapy?"

"Yeah… I mean, physical therapy, for one. Muscle atrophy is no joke. But… I mean all that introspection and growth I'd had during my time as a ghost? That was all kind of gone. I had to kind of work through some things all over again, plus shit like worrying about hospital expenses, dealing with missing half a year of everyone's lives, and that big Cas-shaped hole that was bringing me down."

"Is it wrong that I'm glad you missed me too?"

"Well it _is_ pretty romantic."

Castiel snuggles closer. "I can't believe how warm you are," he mutters.

"I'm not just warm, you know."

Castiel sighs. "Here we go."

"I have saliva!"

"You know, here we are reuniting, and your mind just _has_ to go to-" Castiel doesn't even finish his sentence before Dean is grinning and pulling him over and into a kiss.

Castiel moans as Dean licks into his mouth, pulling away to stare at him. "This is much better than it was before. And it was _good_ before." Castiel practically rips Dean's jacket off of him, then buries his face in that sweet spot between neck and shoulder, inhaling deep. "I can breathe you in now." He licks at Dean's neck, murmuring. "And taste you."

He bites down and Dean cries out, clutching at Castiel's back. He's not particularly familiar with _this_ side of Cas, but he sure as shit likes it. Castiel rolls on top of him, falling easily into the vee of Dean's legs. He goes back to sucking what will likely be an impressive hickey onto Dean's neck, rolling his hips downward to create some friction. Dean can't help but thrust up in response, staring at the ceiling in stunned arousal. This is the first time he's been more than vaguely aroused since he woke up.

Castiel drags his hands to the waistband of Dean's pajama pants, pulling them down along with Dean's boxers while Dean eagerly lifts his hips up off the bed in cooperation. As soon as his pants and boxers are around his thighs, Dean sets about unbuttoning Castiel's khaki's. Castiel practically purrs Dean's name, moving forward to lock their lips together. Dean gets Castiel's pants open, then loses his train of thought at the feel of Castiel's tongue rubbing forcefully against his. Castiel curls a hand around Dean's dick, giving a few gentle pumps before pulling back to look at him.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," he says, and Dean can't tell if he's being serious or not. "I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, I don't want to be presumptuous."

Dean stares at Castiel a long moment, trying to gather enough brain cells together to form a reply while Castiel strokes him gently. All he manages to respond with is a moan of Castiel's name.

Castiel smirks, which is… kind of rare. "You've changed, Dean. You were a lot mouthier, before." He rubs his palm over the slippery head of Dean's dick. "Is something distracting you?"

Dean lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment then grins, reaching for Castiel's pants again. "Don't forget I'm the one that's seen you lying on the floor, moaning and wailing like it was your _job_ while I had my spooky ghost fingers shoved deep inside you."

Castiel shudders, rhythm going sloppy. Dean takes the opportunity to pull Castiel flush against him so that he can reach down and press their dicks together.

"I'm the one whose name you moaned when you were kissing Balthazar," Dean says, stroking them together, and it's hot and slippery and perfect. The two of them moan together at the wet, easy slide of them in Dean's hand. "You still mostly a virgin, Cas? Been with anyone else?"

"No… no way I'd be with someone else…"

"Good, cause neither have I, and last I heard from my doctors, I'm disease free, so tell me you have a bottle of lube in this damn room, Cas."

Castiel nods, pulling away from Dean and leaning over the side of the bed to paw around in his nightstand. Dean crawls over Castiel, biting at the back of his neck and grinding his dick against Castiel's ass. Castiel groans, pausing in his search.

"Is something distracting you?" Dean says, trying to sound innocent.

"Ha, ha," Castiel says dryly.

Dean reaches down so he can rub the head of his dick against Castiel's hole.. "Come on, don't make me wait, Cas."

"Fuck," Castiel says eloquently. "If I hadn't heard a particularly grisly story from Balthazar about what happens when one isn't properly lubed and stretched, I'd be begging you to just shove it in now. Where _is_ that damn bottle?"

Dean is still rubbing against Castiel. It feels awesome. "Me shove in, huh?" He leans closer, pulling Castiel's earlobe into his mouth and nipping gently. Castiel pulls on the drawer while Dean continues talking into his ear. "I was hoping you'd be the one shoving into me."

Castiel swears in surprise and the drawer comes all the way out of the nightstand on his next pull. Dean rolls onto his back, howling with laughter while Castiel digs through the contents now on the floor.

"Find it yet, buddy?"

"I hate you… and I just remembered where it is," Castiel says.

"Where?"

Castiel ignores Dean, taking a moment instead to pull off his shoes, then socks, shedding clothes until he's completely naked and Dean is staring at him, lips parted. Castiel smiles at Dean, small and so full of love that Dean almost can't breathe.

Dean kicks off his slippers, pajama pants, and boxers. "So, where is it?"

Castiel just dives back in, kissing Dean like it's his life's mission. He settles his body partially over Dean and reaches behind Dean's head to work a hand under his pillow. He pulls his hand back, holding a small bottle of lube.

Dean snorts. "Under your pillow? Were you hoping for a visit from the Lube Fairy?"

"Not exactly. I put it under there the other night after I was… done."

"Done with what?" Dean asks, licking his lips.

Castiel bites his lip, looking guilty. He grabs a pillow and Dean lifts his hips so Castiel can fold the pillow in half and shove it underneath him, propping Dean's ass up slightly. Castiel squeezes some lube onto his fingers and rubs them together, probably to warm it up a little.

"What? What is it?" Dean asks.

"The other night, I was… um…"

"Horny, Cas?"

"Yeah."

"Why the weird look?"

"I just feel like maybe I shouldn't say."

"Come on, man. It's important to share secrets and clear the air before you stick your dick into someone."

"Since when?"

"Since I want to know."

"Oh _that's_ fair. You're going to think this is dumb," Castiel says. At Dean's impatient expression he sighs. "It's just that I was thinking about you. It seemed like it was an inappropriate thing to do. I mean it was like our relationship had sort of ended, and it seemed like maybe I didn't have the right to think about you that way anymore."

"You thought of me _before_ I became your weird ghost boyfriend," Dean points out.

"Yes, and if I'd stopped to think about it, I would have felt awkward and guilty about that too when I was doing it."

"God, you're fucking adorable. Well, if it helps, I don't have any problem with you jacking off with a handful of lube to thoughts of me, even if it was before I remembered you. You're off the hook."

Castiel actually looks relieved. Dean thinks it's cute how polite Castiel is, Dean would never pause before thinking of someone while masturbating, even if they were a sort-of ex. Or a friend. Or a stranger.

"Well I wasn't just um… j-jacking off. Since I'm being honest and everything."

"Do tell."

Castiel trails a slick finger down Dean's erection. "Well I might have had a finger inside of myself."

Dean shudders. It's amazing the way Castiel switches gears like this. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Castiel rubs at Dean's hole, getting it slick. Dean is panting already. "Okay that's not accurate, it was maybe more than one finger," Castiel says, slowly working a finger inside. Dean alternates between hissing at the slight burn and moaning at the fact that Castiel's fucking finger is inside him.

"Two then?" Dean says.

Castiel moves his finger in firm thrusts, Dean can sense the edges of his impatience. Good.

"More than two," Castiel says. Dean's dick twitches and Castiel leans down to lick the precome pearling at the tip. He kisses along Dean's hip, continuing to work him open. "I was on my knees, three fingers buried inside, pillow in my mouth to keep myself quiet."

Dean wants to cry with how much he wants this. He shudders a bit at the cold when Castiel drizzles more lube onto where they're joined.

"I don't suppose you uh… recorded that," Dean says, voice cracking faintly.

"Sadly, no." Castiel abruptly starts rubbing at Dean's prostate.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"I do recall this feeling good when you did it to me… just like this, rubbing and pressing," Castiel says. Dean makes a series of high pitched whines that he can't even believe are coming from him. Castiel looks up at him, startled. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, Cas. Keep going."

Castiel shifts so he can kiss Dean, hand still working between them. The kisses are slow, deep, firm. Dean lets himself get lost in the feeling, until most of his focus is on Castiel's tongue, the way he periodically licks Dean's lips and tangles their tongues together.

After a moment Castiel pulls away slowly, smiling at Dean with his fingers still thrusting in and out of his ass. "Shouldn't you share a secret now?"

Dean has to stare at him a good twenty seconds before he can process what was said. He doesn't have anything to share on his mind, really, but he also doesn't want Castiel to stop, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"This is basically the first time I've gotten hard since Alastair," he says. Castiel's hand pauses, his eyes are wide and startled, and Dean is _still_ talking. "I just um… haven't really… since I woke up. Like I said, something was missing. And before that… coma… and I mean if I got any coma erections those probably don't count… and before that I was reeling from what Alastair had done, and oh my God, shut _up,_ Dean."

"Dean…"

"I'm not sure if I'm prepared to have a _moment_ while you're two fingers deep, man," Dean says. Castiel pulls his fingers away. "Fuck, no! I didn't mean-" Dean makes a garbled noise as Castiel pushes back in with three fingers.

"You strike me as very fond of your penis, I'm glad I could help restore your relationship with it," Castiel says casually.

Dean stares. "Are you for real?" Castiel just curls his fingers in response, and drizzles on more lube. "Jesus fucking hell, Cas. Are you going to fuck me, or not?"

"Just being thorough…"

"I'm going to fucking die, become a ghost again, and haunt your bedroom…"

"All the more reason for me to take care, then," Castiel says. He bites at the already tender spot on Dean's neck, spreading and thrusting his fingers. Dean is definitely going to cry. Or faint. Or have Castiel keep doing this forever.

"You should know that when my brother dropped me off, he said he was coming back in ninety minutes," Dean says.

Castiel pulls away to look at him. "Are you serious?"

"I was acting nuts, I'm lucky he left me here at _all._ "

Castiel moves his hands away, and Dean can't help the sad little moan that comes out of him, but then Castiel is spreading Dean's legs wide, crouching between them. He pours more lube onto his hand, applying it to his erection and biting his bottom lip. It's ridiculously hot.

"One more thing, first," Castiel says. Dean's about to ask what that one thing is, but Castiel is already moving down, and a moment later Dean's dick is surrounded by a glorious wet warmth that has him crying out. Castiel takes him so far in that Dean's shocked he isn't gagging, before slowly pulling off, swirling his tongue on Dean's cockhead.

"Y-you, buh…" Dean says elegantly.

"I just really, really wanted to do that for some reason." Castiel's voice is a bit rougher than usual.

Dean just nods absently, and then Castiel is leaning over Dean, left hand out to brace himself, right hand feeling around Dean's rim.

"Please let me know if I do something that hurts you," Castiel says, voice gone serious. Dean nods slowly, mouth hanging open slightly. His jaw drops more once he feels the blunt pressure at his hole, rim slowly opening up, and then Castiel is just barely inside and Dean's wrapping his arms around Castiel's neck, because _fuck_.

Dean mutters Castiel's name over and over, until Castiel's finally bottomed out and they're joined, and Dean's heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest. Castiel looks stunned and Dean falls in love with him just a little bit more.

"Shit, Cas. Shit, shit, shit. I need you to move, because this is too much, and not enough, and you have to shut me up, _please_ shut me up."

Castiel obeys, leaning on his elbows and locking lips with Dean so that Dean can stop talking. Castiel pulls his hips back slowly and pushes forward again, keeping their mouths joined while he slowly works his way into a rhythm.

The sex Dean used to have with other partners was sometimes passionate, and sometimes hot, but it was never _this,_ his entire being suffused with warmth and love and reverence. Castiel kisses Dean like he's precious, and keeps kissing him for a few more long moments, then rests their foreheads together, staring into Dean's eyes.

"I'm really, really starting to understand your preoccupation with sex," Castiel mutters. Dean wraps his legs around Castiel while they continue to move together. Castiel looks so nervous, and surprised, and Dean wonders if he's going to pieces inside too. Castiel is making these breathy little gasps that make Dean feel a lot better about the high pitched whimpers that keep coming out of him against his will.

"I can't tell which is better," Castiel says, "this, or that moment when I first pushed in." Dean wonders if Castiel meant to say that out loud. Castiel reaches down, pulling himself out completely, rubbing the head of his cock against Dean's increasingly sensitive rim. He noses at Dean's neck, inhaling like he's getting high off of him and then shoves himself back into Dean's hole.

Dean wonders if he made the pitiful noises he's making during sex with women, too.

"Which… which…" Dean is trying to finish his sentence, really.

"Which is better?" Castiel pulls out again and wraps his lube-slicked hand around Dean's erection, making a tight fist that Dean thrusts into immediately. "I can't decide which is better. I guess I don't need to choose."

Dean wants to reply, but Castiel is stroking him roughly, and it feels fucking fantastic, and he can feel an orgasm starting to stir to life somewhere in his body.

Castiel stops abruptly, reaching down and shoving back into Dean in a way that makes Dean's toes curl. Dean wants to ask Castiel how the hell he's doing this, how he's wringing all this pleasure out of Dean when the first time _Dean_ fucked someone, he was a fumbling, awkward mess. He _wants_ to ask, but then Castiel is furrowing his brow and changing his angle until his dick is pressing against Dean's prostate, and Dean is going to fucking die for sure.

"You still mine, Cas?" Dean says before he even realizes what he's doing.

"Yes, oh yes Dean, of course," Castiel moans.

"Say it, say it like you did before."

"I'm yours, Dean… _always_." Castiel's thrusts grow faster, more erratic, and then he's stroking Dean again, dipping his head down to bite the unmarked side of Dean's neck. His cock is grinding against Dean's prostate, and Dean is screaming, hoping no one is in the house to hear him while he's coming all over the Deathly Hallows logo on the t-shirt he forgot to take off.

Castiel makes a series of absolutely _devastated_ whimpers and then he's ramming in hard and coming with a low moan, hands gripping Dean's hips in a way that Dean dimly hopes will leave a bruise or two.

 

***

 

 

 

"OH MY GOD!" the exclamation shocks Dean awake… when the hell did he fall asleep? He's under a blanket from the waist down, but the t-shirt came off at some point and he's completely naked and tangled around an equally naked and startled Castiel.

Dean turns his head in the direction of the noise, and to his horror, sees a woman who must be Anna, and Sam, whose face is a shade of red that Dean's only seen on stop signs. He hears a squeak, and can't tell if it came from him or Castiel, who has gone very, very still next to him.

The four of them stare at each other for sixty _agonizing_ seconds before Sam finally speaks. "Anna… she heard me honking outside… and now we're here. This is... this is not what I expected to find."

"I uh… I'm going to go order a pizza. I'm hungry. Are you guys hungry? I'm sure you're hungry. Come on, Sam… they probably want to get dressed, or um… shower," Anna says, physically dragging Sam out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Castiel and Dean turn to face each other, mouths hanging open.

"That saves me the trouble of telling my brother I'm bi, I guess," Dean says.

"We uh… fell asleep."

"I can't believe my kid brother just walked in on me crashed out after sex. I managed to make it years without him walking in on me jacking off, or fooling around with a girl, but _this_ he sees."

"I'm not… ashamed of my body, or your body, or what we did, and yet I'm so embarrassed I might actually die. Why is that?"

"Hell if I know."

"I thought Gabriel walking in on me making out with Balthazar had been embarrassing, that's nothing compared to this."

Dean grins, sliding on top of Castiel and kissing him soundly. "I'm sure all this embarrassment builds character. Now come on, we should shower, probably at the same time to conserve water."

Castiel nods into the kiss. "Water conservation is important."

 

***

 

Castiel fucks Dean against the shower wall, one hand wrapped around Dean's dick, the other clamped over Dean's mouth. When Dean's body is overwhelmed by his orgasm and his legs give out, Castiel holds him up, whispering endearments in his ear and following him over the edge.


	24. Afterglow

Dean and Castiel come downstairs just after the pizza arrives, freshly showered and blushing. Castiel has changed into a cozy looking set of gray flannel pajamas. Dean's defiled t-shirt is stuffed at the bottom of Castiel's laundry basket, and he's instead wearing a pale blue t-shirt with a teddy bear in the center that says "I Wuv Hugs". Castiel had handed it to Dean as a joke, and Dean had shrugged and put it on, just to see Castiel smile. Castiel said the shirt was a gag gift from Gabriel, and this marks the first time it's been worn.

Sam and Anna are sitting at the dining room table, looking at the pizza boxes with equally despondent expressions.

"Oh God," Castiel says, "you heard us in the shower."

"Oh God," Dean mutters.

"We came back upstairs so I could show Sam the painting in Castiel's bedroom," Anna says slowly.

Sam sighs. "We were walking past the bathroom, and we uh…" Everyone falls silent for about a minute before Sam speaks again. "Would anyone else be interested in forgetting everything that happened in the past forty-five minutes?"

"Yes please," Anna says.

"I would _love_ that," Dean lies. He has no intention of forgetting that shower, _fuck._

Anna reaches forward, opening one of the pizza boxes. Everyone takes a slice, eating quietly and staring at the table. It's suffocatingly awkward.

"I don't think it's working," Castiel says.

"I was only gone an hour and a half, how did you end up in bed with a _guy_ you just met, Dean?" Sam whines.

"Are you suddenly homophobic, Sammy?" Dean barks.

"What the hell? Of _course_ not, Dean. But I'm your brother. Why couldn't you just tell me you were gay?"

"I'm actually bisexual."

"Oh. Sorry, but it's still not… wait. We're focusing on the wrong thing. I told you about my depressed schoolmate, and you made me drive over here so you could _seduce_ him," Sam says accusingly.

"Depressed?" Anna says.

Dean grimaces. "You are too young to be using words like ‘seduce', Sam. Gross."

Anna looks over at Castiel, concerned. "Are you depressed?"

Castiel stares at his pizza. "I uh… not at the moment?"

"Yes," Anna says, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure sex with a handsome stranger is a mood lifter."

"I'm not-" Dean stops. He wants to say that he's not a stranger, that he's loved Castiel since last summer. He wants to tell them about all the things Castiel has done for him, protecting Sam, the Dr. Sexy marathons, getting photos of Dean's family on Thanksgiving, but he doesn't. He can't. It sounds crazy.

Castiel chews angrily on his bite of pizza, swallowing before speaking. "What Dean and I have… and why we have it… is between us. I'm not going to explain myself to either of you like I've done something _wrong._ "

"What you and Dean _have_? You _just_ met!" Sam says, exasperated.

"We didn't just…" Dean sighs. "Fine, we just met. Must be love at first sight."

Sam glares. "Don't act like _I'm_ the weird one, Dean. Impulsive decisions like this are a red flag when someone is recovering from a traumatic brain injury."

"Don't make this into a coma thing. I woke up _four_ months ago, Sam," Dean grumbles.

Anna's head whips over in Dean's direction at that. Dean's coma must not have come up when Anna and Sam were discussing their mutual horror at catching their family members naked.

"Dean," Sam says, voice turning gentle.

"No. I'm tired of everyone acting like every choice I make might be a coma thing. Every time I'm in a bad mood, every time I forget something I probably would have forgotten on a normal day anyway, every time I go to bed early… you, Mom, and Dad all look like you want to reach for the phone and call my doctor. I'm still _me,_ damn it! Even now, I bet you're wondering if the fact that I'm getting so worked up is a damn coma thing!"

Sam looks down guiltily. "Well… you freaked out, made me drive you over here in your _pajamas,_ and then I find you naked in bed with a guy you've never met. I'm allowed to be worried."

"Look. Me and Cas… we've got history, okay?"

"You clearly didn't know him when you saw his picture on my phone."

"I know him, okay?"

"But _how_? Did he visit you at the hospital?"

This is so frustrating. Dean is having to defend himself, Castiel looks uncomfortable, and Anna looks absolutely baffled. "No, Sam. Look, I'm sorry but you're just going to have to be confused on this one. I know him, okay? His name is Castiel James Shurley, his parents met at a Star Trek convention. He likes languages, mythology, and whether he admits it or not, he likes Doctor Sexy, MD. He always wears slacks and sweatervests to school, except when it's too hot in the summer. In the summer he wears all the weird t-shirts his brother Gabriel has given him as hand-me-downs, gag gifts, and souvenirs from Gabriel's travels seeking culinary inspiration in his younger years. His brother Michael is a dick and a half, and his sister-in-law paints at all hours in what used to be the garage. Cas really wants a cat, but has to wait until he's moved elsewhere because his dad is afraid of cats. His favorite dessert is his brother's strawberry-apple pie, and he takes medication for a pollen allergy at certain times of the year. He wants to be a teacher or a writer like his dad, who writes horror novels under the pen name Carver Edlund. He once drank milk that had been expired for three weeks on a dare, and then threw up all over his brother's bed as a result. I _know him_ , okay?"

Dean knows Castiel is staring at him. Half of the shit Dean just said is stuff he learned during the summer, long before Castiel knew he was haunting the school.

"Okay, so how do you know all this stuff about him?" Sam asks.

Dean shakes his head. "That stays between Cas and me, I'm sorry."

Sam sighs loudly. "This doesn't make any sense."

"You don't have to know _everything,_ Sam. Just eat some damn pizza."

Sam sighs again, grabbing another slice.

Castiel leans over toward Dean, whispering in his ear. "I can't _believe_ you heard about the milk."

 

***

 

An hour later, Anna is in the garage showing Sam more of her work. Dean and Castiel are on the couch in the living room, mostly cuddling.

"So," Dean says, "have you been keeping up with Dr. Sexy?"

"Nah. I wasn't particularly interested in watching without you. Too sad. You?"

"I tried catching up on episodes, I got my friend Charlie to download and burn the first ten episodes from the season onto DVDs for me, but my heart just wasn't in it when I watched. I thought maybe I'd outgrown the show, but maybe it was just that I didn't have the right company."

"I don't know if you know this," Castiel whispers conspiratorially, "but it's not that great of a show."

"But _cowboy boots_."

"I didn't know how to tell you this before, but I think cowboy boots are kind of tacky outside of a western movie."

" _Castiel!_ " Dean cries out in mock outrage."I can't believe I let you come in my ass!"

A loud thump draws their eyes to the front door. A squirrelly looking man with a beard is nervously picking up several books off the floor, while a short, blushing woman is just staring.

"How does this keep happening…" Castiel mutters.

"Just kill me," Dean says.

"Dean, this is my father Charles, and my mother Rebecca," Castiel announces.

"Chuck," Chuck says.

"Becky," Becky adds.

"Mother, Father, this is my… this is Dean."

Dean stumbles over, helping Chuck pick up the last of the books. "Boyfriend. I'm Cas' boyfriend. I am so, so sorry you heard that. I didn't even hear the door open, and you must think I'm just disgusting, I'm really, very sorry," he babbles.

"He's _gorgeous,_ honey!" Becky says, sounding excited. "Have you two been having sex long? There are some technical questions I would _love_ to run by you!" Chuck makes an absolutely traumatized noise and rushes up the stairs, arms full of books. "Don't mind him, he's a little skittish about sex."

"I'm uh… I'm not sure I have any useful information," Dean says, mostly addressing his slippers.

"Mother, _please,_ " Castiel begs.

"Fine, fine. Everyone is so _shy._ Lovely to meet you, Dean! Great slippers!" Becky heads up the stairs, calling out Chuck's name and asking him if he needs the Pepto Bismal.

Dean rubs his eyes in agitation. "Dude, is this house for real?!"

"The fact that they're not grilling us about what they overheard is an actual miracle," Castiel says.

"Maybe they're saving that for after I leave," Dean says.

Castiel pales slightly. "Oh, God. That's probably exactly what's going to happen."

"Hey, at least you don't have to endure questions about whether or not everything you do is related to your coma."

Castiel levels Dean with a glare. "Would you like to trade, Dean? I'll deal with concern from my parents, and you can have your mother interrogate you for carnal details that she can use to aid her erotic novel writing?"

"Uhhh… pass."

Castiel and Dean continue talking until Dean's chronic sleepiness catches up with him. Dean's heart aches as Castiel goes to Anna's room to fetch Sam. He doesn't want to leave Castiel, he just found him again. He hates his body right now.

Castiel comes back, smiling faintly. "Your brother will be out in a moment. He's cleaning some paint out of his hands. And his hair. And his jacket." He sits next to Dean on the couch, sighing. "I feel like I'm not ready for you to go. I just got you back. That sounded incredibly clingy, didn't it."

"Maybe a little," Dean says. "But if it helps, I feel the same way."

"Yes, I think that _does_ help, actually."

"I just want to spend a few days locked in a hotel room with you," Dean says, leaning to give Castiel a chaste kiss. "But uh… well we're both still living with our parents, and I haven't exactly been saving cash over the past year, being comatose and in recovery and all that."

"You sound lazy," Castiel jokes.

"Guilty," Dean says, kissing Castiel again.

"I'm so glad you're here, awake. I really did feel sort of lost without you. I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off of my chest."

"You're getting all mushy, Cas."

Castiel nods. "I know. I'm just glad you're in my life. I know being in a coma was a horrible experience for you and your family, but the time we spent together meant a lot to me, Dean."

Dean lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "Alright. I'm going to go all squishy and wimpy here."

"Hold on," Castiel says. He sits, pretzel style, clutching a couch cushion to his chest and batting his eyelashes. "Go on."

Dean snorts, flicking Castiel on the nose. "I just wanted to say… it was worth it. Wandering the halls invisible, missing my family, learning to walk again, even the catheter. It was worth it to get here."

"Yeah?" Castiel says, blushing.

"Yeah."

"You're not going to propose now, are you? I really should finish high school before I get married."

"What?" Dean exclaims. "You expect _me_ to propose?!"

"I just assumed, since you are clearly the hopeless romantic in the relationship."

"Oh my God don't say that out loud, someone will _hear_ you."

"Either way, it's much too soon to think about that sort of thing, Dean. I'm seventeen and new to romance. You'll have to wait until next month when I turn eighteen and suddenly know everything. _Then_ you can propose."

"Again, assuming _I'd_ be the one to propose! I don't have ring money!"

"Well, neither do I!" Castiel grins. "Although… I do have old birthday and Christmas money saved up."

"To uh… get me a ring?"

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I was thinking more about what you said before, about wanting to spend a few days locked with me in a hotel room."

"Are you serious?"

"I think it would be nice to spend some time together. Getting to know each other more. Not having family walk in at inopportune moments. Coming up with a convincing backstory for our relationship that doesn't involve ghosts. Things like that."

"Eating ice cream in our underwear while watching Die Hard?" Dean says with a hopeful smile.

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean, nuzzling his hair.

"You've got yourself a date."

**THE END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's hilarious that when I first started reading fanfic I had no interest in AUs and nothing but disdain for high school AUs. Now I prefer AUs and I've written a high school one. 
> 
> I mostly finished this over a year ago, and it was the first fic I actually started and completed. In the time since I've posted 5 shorter fics on a different account (that I won't be sharing SO SORRY), but I still consider THIS my first completed fic. I wrote the entire thing in a pile of spiral notebooks and more than one Pilot V5 pen lost its life bringing this story out of my head and onto paper. I'm a serial procrastinator, and kept putting off typing up my pages and pages of story, until DCBB sign-ups rolled around and I thought "Hey. This is a good excuse to actually post my damn fic!" so I signed up, and actually typed this damn thing up. I'm terrified, but glad that someone outside my betas might actually read it.
> 
> Thank you again to [Heather](http://casfucker.tumblr.com/) for all the initial beta'ing, and to [Tabitha](http://amorubiquo.tumblr.com/) and [Kris](http://kelisab.tumblr.com) for giving my story a proofread as well, because the fewer mistakes I find months after this is posted, the better.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, let me know because I'm insecure like that. And if you spot a typo, for the love of god let me know.
> 
> <3


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